


Keep It Running

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dysfunctional Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sadism, Soap Opera, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 17:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A soap opera without all the murders—Mikey’s done everything he can to keep his relationship with Frank going, but that relationship ends in an instant when he finds out that Frank’s been in love with Gerard all along. As Gerard finds himself caught up in the guilt of returning Frank’s feelings, Ray finds himself seeing his bass player in a different way. If only he’d heed Frank’s warnings and see that there may be something…wrong with Mikey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my adored Soap Opera. It has been on hiatus for a few months, but I'm hoping to move past chapter seven very soon--especially if people show interest in it. Although _Dogs_ is my best fic, this is my labor of love.

Mikey wouldn’t lie, not to himself at least. He loved his boyfriend, almost more than he loved anything else. He knew he made Frank happy, knew he pleased him and that Frank loved him and enjoyed his company. Mikey had no doubts at all in his mind.

Things weren’t perfect though. 

But Mikey guessed every couple had its problems. He and Frank didn’t fight, they didn’t abuse each other, they didn’t cheat. Mikey was happy, and Frank was happy—to Mikey, that meant everything was good enough. Who needed perfect when they had good enough?

Their only problem was such a small, private thing. And it was only a problem for Mikey…and Mikey would rather cope with it than complain. He never wanted anything to come between his happiness with Frank, especially not his own selfish wants.

Mikey just wanted Frank to be happy. Frank was too rough with him, always had been, but Mikey didn’t complain, he coped. It worked better that way, and it didn’t create rifts between them when he kept quiet.

He detached himself from what was happening to take his mind off of the pain, the ache of the bite marks, the twinge of the bruises he’d get. Mikey knew that Frank hated how he never seemed to respond to the touches—literally _hated_ the way Mikey withheld noises and hardly made any physical expressions of pleasure. But Mikey couldn’t help it. If he made a sound, it was one of pain and Frank would just stop and look at him in that disheartened, unsatisfied way and their night would be over because if Mikey didn’t like it, why should they do it?

It was obvious that Frank needed the physical intimacy, the ability to mark what was his and unite with the person he loved, and Mikey wanted to give Frank everything he needed…so he learned to shut his mouth and turn his face away incase any of the pain transmitted onto his face which he worked so hard to keep clear. 

It didn’t matter if he only got minimal pleasure on those nights—it didn’t matter to him if he got any pleasure at all, so long as Frank was satisfied, because Frank was all he cared about. He’d do anything to please him, even hurt himself. Mikey knew it was true that he would die for Frank if he had to, just like he would die for Gerard or Ray or Bob, so why couldn’t he take a little pain to ensure his happiness? 

Mikey sighed and rolled over, nudging his way closer to Frank until their foreheads touched gently. He found Frank’s hand under the blanket and caressed it gently. He’d noticed that Frank seemed sad lately, and it bothered him that he really didn’t know why. If he asked, Frank would say it was nothing and look away. Somewhere in his mind, Mikey knew it was something about them… Somewhere in his heart screamed that he didn’t need to worry, because Frank loved him, and he loved Frank back more than enough for them to make it through whatever storm was brewing. All he had to do was erase Frank’s doubt…he felt that he knew how.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank watched Mikey tune his guitar the way he mindlessly did in the middle of every practice, looked him over and knew that if he wanted to, he could go over there right now and say something to him so completely hurtful and devastating that it would make Mikey cry, and yet they would still have sex that night if he asked… That used to be intriguing, but not anymore. 

Having Mikey do everything he said wasn’t cute anymore, or a sign of affection anymore…it was a lifestyle he didn’t want. Mikey never said no to him, not even when Frank would suggest the worst possible things at the worst possible times—times when Frank just wanted to hear it, hear “no”…to prove to himself that Mikey was still a living, breathing, _thinking_ human being, not just an object in his apartment.

Mikey would let him do anything—it wasn’t erotic when he knew Mikey didn’t like anything that was happening. He wanted Mikey to enjoy himself, too, but the man didn’t. He hated it, hated every touch. 

They were over. The two of them were over. Frank thought it was painfully obvious, but Mikey seemed not to notice. He couldn’t break up with him, though. He lacked the courage, he didn’t want to see Mikey hurt.

Frank noticed that Mikey had caught him watching and was beginning to offer a smile that Frank couldn’t return. He turned his eyes away, but not before he saw that miniscule smile disappear completely, and refocused them on Gerard who was doing god knew what with the unplugged microphone in his hand while talking to Ray indistinctly…From behind, it looked like he was deliberately jacking the piece of equipment off, but what did Frank know? Gerard could’ve just been mindlessly toying with it… Not _everything_ the man did was a sexual innuendo—it was just hard for Frank not to see it that way.

He loved Gerard, he’d always loved Gerard, but Mikey had gotten in the way of that before anything could have begun. Somewhere in his heart, Frank resented the younger Way for that. He and Gerard had been so close back then, so close to having something—then, suddenly, Gerard pulled away. He and Mikey spent more time talking to each other at practice, and then Gerard disappeared and Mikey oh so nervously asked him if he wanted to go for a walk…

Frank didn’t know why he’d let it go past that—maybe in hopes that he would start to feel something for Mikey besides a fleeting lust, or maybe because he thought that Mikey was as close to Gerard as he would ever get. Now he was stuck with Mikey, and knew that even if he got Mikey out of the way, Gerard wouldn’t ever want him afterwards.

“Are you pissed at me for something?” The words pulled Frank from his thoughts, and he turned to look at Mikey, trying to disguise his mixed emotions. He had a feeling his irritation slipped through because Mikey looked away and slid a step back. He’d spoken quietly, but Frank noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ray was now watching them. “Frank?”

“No, I’m not pissed—why would I be pissed?” Frank looked away from the boyfriend he didn’t love anymore and picked his guitar up from where it leaned against the wall. Mikey didn’t say anything. “You worry too much, babe.” Frank began to tune his guitar even though it didn’t need the treatment.

“Frank?” Frank glared at him without meaning it and Mikey looked away instantly, retreating back over to his area of the room like a dog that had been kicked. It pissed Frank off. If Mikey had something to say, he needed to learn to just fucking say it. He strummed his guitar absently a few times, and then Bob finally came back from the bathroom and declared that the break was over, even though it was usually Gerard who did that.

Mikey played the rest of the time with his head down, standing completely still and with no emotion at all. Like a fucking statue. Frank wanted to kick him, but he didn’t have the energy to make the venting look playful so he didn’t bother. 

And Mikey kept screwing up the chords…then he just stopped playing.

“Something wrong, Mikey?” Gerard asked. Mikey shook his head. 

“Just tired. Mind if I go get some coffee and come back?”

“Go ahead,” Gerard answered. “You look like you need it.” Then his face cracked with a smile and he turned his eyes to Frank, making the brunette’s heart stop. “Frank not letting you sleep?” He winked, glanced at Mikey who looked both pissed off and completely unemotional at the same time, depending on how the light hit him, and Gerard just cleared his throat and looked at the floor.

“He sleeps fuckin’ fine,” Frank mumbled, starting to play with the keys of his guitar for no reason except for distraction. 

“Actually, Gerard, I think I’m just gonna go.” Mikey turned away, looking for his guitar case along the back wall and grabbing it. If he didn’t love him, Frank told himself, he’d go over there right now and slap him so hard he fucking bled, but he loved the pouting brat and he knew better than to hit a man with glasses, so he just kept his mind focused on his guitar and let Gerard take care of Mikey…but that didn’t mean he didn’t listen to their conversation.

“What’s the matter?” Gerard mumbled, barely even audible.

“I’m fine.” Mikey’s voice was louder, only because he wasn’t fine and he was trying not to cry. He wasn’t sad, Frank could tell the difference between sad tears and stressed tears. Sad tears came from death, stressed tears came from discouragement—anything from messing up on the guitar too many times in a row to not being able to figure out what he was doing that had someone he cared about upset.

“Mikey—”

“I’m fine, really. I just want to go home.” He slammed his guitar case and made for the door, obviously trying to make eye contact—and to not make eye contact—with Frank as he did. He wanted to tell Frank he wasn’t mad at him, but he didn’t want to talk about it either. Frank wished he would get mad, get pissed, get _livid._ Shout that he was tired of being ignored, that he didn’t like being fucked raw, that he _knew_ Frank was thinking about his brother and not him…but Mikey wouldn’t do that. Mikey just kept quiet and calm and fucking _still._

Frank wanted to hit him, just so he would leave. He didn’t want to leave Mikey, he wanted Mikey to leave him…

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank came home and Mikey hesitated a moment before going to his side. He didn’t want to fight, so he was going to apologize for the problems he caused and hope that Frank forgave him. He wasn’t sure that he would… Gerard had probably jumped down his throat about what had happened, demanding to know what he had done to make his little brother so upset…

“Frank?” Mikey started, knowing from experience not to try to take Frank’s guitar and put it away for him, and settling for closing the door for him. 

“I’m not mad, okay? I’m not pissed at you, so just let it go, alright?”

“But you are mad,” Mikey insisted. “I just want to help.” 

“It’s nothing you can help with,” Frank said, trying to keep his growing frustration out of his voice. Mikey didn’t reply to him, just followed him from one room to the next and finally dropping down next to him on the couch. “Mikey…” Frank swallowed hard because he knew what he could say and felt that he had the capacity to finally say it. “Mikey,” he started again, more firmly this time, leaning forward in his seat. 

‘Mikey, I don’t love you anymore’—that was what he wanted to say, it was right _there_ on his tongue, but it wasn’t coming out. That was a lie. He felt for sure it was a lie. He didn’t love Mikey. That was the truth… Anymore, that was the lie. He didn’t love Mikey. He’d never loved Mikey.

“Frank, I’m sorry I made a scene like that,” Mikey said, giving Frank a look he knew too well. It was a seductive look that didn’t appear very often, but won over Frank’s mind whenever it did. He wondered if Mikey used that just to cut the arguments short, acting as a manipulative bitch who didn’t want to let Frank go even though he saw that he was clearly unhappy with where he was, or if he used it because he thought it was what Frank wanted, thought that Frank didn’t want to fight and would rather make love and forget about their problems for a while.

Knowing Mikey as he did, Frank knew it was the latter, no matter how much he wished it was the first option. He only wished he had a reason aside from a lack of mutual affection to tell Mikey that he wanted to break up. God, why couldn’t Mikey get a hint!?

_Because you aren’t dropping one…_ a voice whispered in Frank’s head. And it was right. Letting the man he was trying to dump slide off of the couch and crawl between his legs was not giving him a hint. Not saying anything as he began to undo the button and zip of his pants definitely was _not_ indicating that a breakup was inevitably in their future. Letting Mikey whisper one last word of apology before taking him into his mouth was _not_ the right way to scream out “I don’t fucking love you and I never fucking did!”

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey could feel that something wasn’t right, before he even started to move his tongue over the sensitive flesh in his mouth. He instantly realized that this wasn’t what needed to be happening—they needed to talk, not have sex—but it was too late. He couldn’t stop now, that wouldn’t be fair to Frank—so he kept going, moving his head back and forth and running his teeth gently along the slick skin. Frank’s soft moan edged him on, and he tried a little harder to please him—thinking of different things he could try, anything to make Frank happy and take his mind off of whatever was upsetting him that he just couldn’t bear to talk about.

He bobbed his head a little faster, suddenly feeling himself grow hard at the thought of how good it would feel if maybe later Frank would do this same thing for him…if he wanted to. Mikey would never be so selfish as to ask when he knew Frank was upset.

Frank’s soft moans grew louder, and Mikey ran his tongue over the slit, taking in the taste of the precome leaking out and sighing softly. Frank slowly fisted a hand in Mikey’s hair and pulled him forward, thrusting into an anticipating mouth. Mikey decided to give in, he made a sound when he usually wouldn’t. 

It was just a quiet moan at first, but Frank responded so well that he just closed his eyes tightly and kept going. His nearly humiliating moans grew a little louder as Frank began to alternately stroke his hair and pull it, his own cries of mounting ecstasy mixing with Mikey’s.

Mikey tried to swallow back the embarrassment, knowing that this was what Frank wanted—him to act like he actually enjoyed what was happening. It was perfectly ordinary to make sound, he just had to remind himself of that each time he forced out a moan, trying to listen to Frank’s throaty sounds instead of his own.

He began to suck a little harder, willing the experience to end a little quicker, still ashamed of the noises he was letting himself make, sometimes willingly, other times not. Frank continued to buck into his mouth without any complaint, his moans starting to sound like words which Mikey listened to intently, trying to decipher them.

“ _Mn_ —yeah…Yeah, _god_ , babe, so good—yeah— _mn_ Gerard—oh!”

And then Mikey felt his heart break. 

There was no mistaking it. Frank had just said his brother’s name—cried out “Gerard” before moaning in sheer ecstasy. Cried out Gerard instead of Mikey…

Mikey froze, his only sound being an involuntary whimper as he tried to sort out what to do. Should he just keep going? Should he stop? Frank didn’t seem to notice what had happened, but grunted in dissatisfaction when he noticed that Mikey had essentially stopped all movement.

“What, babe?” he panted out, hastily stroking Mikey’s hair as if it would somehow fix what he’d done. Mikey pulled away, letting Frank fall from his mouth and then spitting the taste out of his mouth and onto the carpet floor. How long, he wondered. How long had this all been a lie? “What?” Frank insisted. Mikey spat again and then looked up at him, scooting several inches back on the floor.

“Mikey,” Mikey said, because it was the only word he could think—the one he _should_ have heard. 

Frank was happy with him, Frank should have moaned out “Mikey”, not “Gerard”. Frank still seemed unaware of what he’d said. 

“I’m Mikey…” Frank just looked at him confused. “You said...” Mikey swallowed hard and shook his head in despair. “You said Gerard,” he whimpered accusingly, taking his lower lip into his mouth and biting it before hissing and standing up. “Guess it makes sense,” he said with a shaking breath. He turned his back to Frank and started across the room, going for the door and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand roughly. He heard Frank swear and get up from the couch, the zip of his pants and his footsteps as he hurried to catch up to him before he could leave.

“Wait—Mikey, just wait!” Mikey froze, his eyes locked on the door that was within an arm’s reach as he struggled to come to his own understanding before Frank tried to change his mind. It was so obvious, how had he missed it? This whole time that he’d been trying to keep them alive by coping with every bit of pain, every feeling of being misunderstood and neglected, Frank had just been trying to push him away. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Like you’d _mean_ to!?” Mikey spat back, trying to decide if he was pissed off or sad. He guessed hurt was a little of both. “Like you’d want me to know you’d rather be with my _brother_ than me!?”

“Mikey, I—”

“My _brother_ , Frank!” Mikey shouted so loudly the neighbors all had to hear, his desperation breaking through the walls. “My fucking brother!”

“Mikey, please—”

“No!” Mikey screamed, fed up and making himself numb. “You can fucking have him, Frank! He’s yours! He’s been upset with me since you and I got together—wouldn’t you know it, the same time he starts to act like he’s over it, you start,” Mikey choked on his words, “you start pushing me away.” 

The conspiracy was so obvious; did the two of them think he’d never find out? Gerard had asked him that very day what was wrong, and Mikey had believed that Gerard really wanted to know—really wanted to help him sort out the problem—when in reality Gerard had known all along. He felt so cheated…So bitterly angry. 

“Why didn’t you just have the fucking nerve to tell me?” Mikey asked. “I would have _left!_ You didn’t need to do this—Goddamnit!” Mikey felt the tears rush him, but closed his eyes tightly until he successfully fought them back.

He was not going to cry here. He was not going to let Frank see him hurt.

A tentative hand brushed across his shoulder, but Mikey shoved it away violently before grabbing the doorknob and yanking the door open. He was finished with this. He slammed the door behind him and started down the hall, his arms crossed over his chest protectively and his mind set on ruining the only other person on his mind. 

( ) ( ) ( )

The black lines on the paper all seemed to be smearing into one. It wasn’t because Gerard’s lines were getting messy or smudged, it was his focus that was blurring. He didn’t know why he was putting so much work into this sketch when it was just something he’d begun out of boredom, but he couldn’t pull himself away from it. 

It just seemed _bad_ to go to bed with work unfinished.

Simultaneously yawning and pushing his bangs back from his face, Gerard scraped a few more lines onto the page, completing the twisted smile on his character’s face. 

He didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. There was a guy’s face on what seemed like a woman’s body with a knife in one hand and…something in the other—he didn’t even know what it was supposed to be.

The more he looked at it, the more he hated it and became tempted to crumple it into a ball and pitch it into the trash even though there were at least a thousand people who would kill to own it.

Gerard sighed and dropped his pen, freeing his hands so he could cover his face with them and push on his eyes in an attempt to wake them up.

As he moaned into his hands, there was a slam in the hallway of the apartment building and all of his senses were roused. He turned his head towards his door, half expecting to see it swing open and reveal the possessed man-creature standing in the hall. 

After a moment of clear thought, Gerard accepted that the slam belonged to the door at the end of the hall. The one from the stairwell. 

It was just another one of his irritatingly loud neighbors returning home, he thought. He turned back to his drawing and shook his head. With one hand, he crumpled the paper and tossed it away. 

He thought to get start on a new drawing—a simpler, better one that he could start and finish so the night wouldn’t end on a frustrated and negative note—but his attention was rerouted to his door. 

The knob was being shaken harshly, making Gerard immediately stand from his chair in both alarm and defense. It was easier to attack and attacker when you’re standing up—at least that’s what his instincts told him.

“Who’s there?” Gerard asked, trying to sound forceful instead of scared.

“Gerard!” The person screamed. Gerard hesitated a moment before he realized that the voice belonged to Mikey. “Open the door!” Mikey boomed. Gerard stared at the door in terror, never having heard or seen Mikey this angry.

“Coming!” Gerard called, even though he really just wanted to run back to his bedroom and hide under his sheets.

He crept over to the door and unlocked it slowly. Just as the lock cracked, however, Mikey burst inside. Gerard didn’t even have the time to back away before Mikey had thrown a punch that landed directly across Gerard’s face.

The force of the blow and the surprise made Gerard fall down onto the floor and screeched in pain.

“Mikey!” He called out, covering his nose and staring up at his brother in fear and confusion.

“You son a bitch!” Mikey screamed before attacking again, throwing out a kick that got Gerard in the side of the head. Gerard fell backwards and hit his head on the floor, crying out again and curling into a ball. 

“What did I do!?” Gerard called out, trying to cover his head from any more kicks or blows.

“You can’t let me have the one thing that I wanted!” Mikey shouted.

“What are you talking about?” Gerard cried, cowering against another two kicks that struck his ribs.

“My boyfriend!” Mikey yelled. “ _My_ boyfriend!” Gerard looked up from the floor and stared at him in confusion. 

Yes, Gerard would admit that he had feelings for Frank, but Mikey’s feelings had come first. He’d stepped aside when he found out that Mikey liked Frank. He’d let Mikey have him without even putting up a fight—why would Mikey be mad?

“Mikey…I don’t understand,” Gerard cried.

“You slept with him!” Mikey screamed, voice cracking. Gerard stared at him, eyes slowly going wider. 

“Mikey—no! I would never—”

“Don’t lie to me!” It was impossible to see that all of this rage was just a mask for the pain his brother was in. What had Frank done to him?

“I’m not!” Gerard shouted, getting to his feet. “I wouldn’t do that!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Mikey screamed again. “Don’t you fucking lie to my face like _him!_ ”

“Mikey, really,” Gerard said, holding his hands out in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t touch him—I swear. You’re my brother, I wouldn’t do that!” Mikey stared at him, so many emotions in his face.

Pain, fear, anger…desperation.

“Mikey…We’ve never done anything—I’ve never slept with him. He’s your boyfriend, I’d _never_ get in the way of that.”

“You love him,” Mikey seethed. “You’re in love with him. It’s not just a show.” Gerard stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“I…I don’t want to be,” Gerard whimpered. “I’m sorry—I’ve tried not to think about it, but I can’t help it, Mikey. But even if I feel this way, you _know_ I’d never betray you like that. You’re my brother, you mean more to me than he does.”

Mikey stared at him for a long time in silence, just breathing deeply as he tried to catch his breath and calm down. 

“Mikey, what happened tonight?” Gerard dared to ask. He hated how hopeful he felt—hoping that Frank had left Mikey…so maybe they could be together. He wanted Frank, and he hated how he could see himself dating the same man who was breaking his brother’s heart.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mikey said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand before shoving both hands in his pant’s pockets.

“Did you and Frank…”

“We broke up,” Mikey hissed. “You can have him.”

“Mikey,” Gerard started. He rethought his approach and rubbed at his aching ribs absently. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?”

“I can’t stay with you,” Mikey said. His tone was strange, like he was trying to get angry but couldn’t do it anymore. He was staring at the carpet and shaking his head absently—like he was lost in his own devastated world. 

“Please?” Gerard asked. “I know you’re not going to go back to his apartment, and I can’t sleep if I know you’re out on the streets.”

“No,” Mikey said, dismissing him automatically.

“Mikey—there’s nowhere else. I _promise_ nothing happened between us, and I’m _sorry_ if I did something that he took for an invitation.”

“Gerard, I—I _want_ to, but…I _can’t._ ” Mikey looked up from the floor and met Gerard’s gaze sadly. “I just…I just can’t look at you right now, okay?” 

“I didn’t do _anything!_ ” Gerard pleaded, hoping he could clear his name even though he felt so guilty. How many times had he dreamed of Mikey dumping Frank so that he could have him? He wanted Frank so badly, and he no longer cared how he got him or who he hurt in the process. He was in love—and worse, he was in _lust._

He _wanted_ Frank. Those kisses on stage weren’t enough…He wanted so much more… And Mikey had always been in the way,

Gerard knew Mikey was aware of this…

“Please, just stay here. Just for the night—I don’t want you out on the streets when you feel this bad.” Gerard stared at him until Mikey met his gaze again, but just as his brother prepared to speak, Frank burst through the apartment’s door.

“Son of a bitch,” Mikey seethed under his breath, almost sounding like he were laughing.

“Gerard!” Frank called. Gerard watched Mikey’s face twist with anger and a sick form of amusement and felt like Frank was calling out the wrong name…

“Figures,” Mikey muttered quietly before whipping around and staring Frank down. “I should’ve known you’d come running here the _second_ I’m gone.”

“What did you do?” Frank said, taking his focus off of Gerard and looking at Mikey angrily. Gerard remembered the blow he’d received to the face and gently covered his mouth where it hurt. When he pulled his fingers away, there was blood. “He had nothing to do with this!” Frank screamed. “What did you do, Mikey!?”

“What the fuck does it matter!?” Mikey shouted. Gerard stared at them helplessly and tried to think of something to say—or which he side he wanted to take.

“What did you do?” Frank repeated. “Why would you hurt him!? What is your _problem!?_ ”

“Certainly not you,” Mikey spat. “Forget it. Take him—I don’t even give a shit anymore.” Mikey shot one last accusing look at his brother before pushing past Frank on his way out of the apartment. 

“Fuck,” Frank sighed as Mikey slammed the apartment door. He and Gerard stared at it for several long seconds, both of them grasping what had happened and trying to figure out what to say.

“Frank?” Gerard whispered, breaking the silence but adding to the tension. “What did you do?”


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard paced his apartment, trying to hold onto one thought as millions rushed his brain, holding a bloody washcloth to his nose to keep the blood from face off of his clothes. 

He felt so guilty…like he deserved the punches and kicks Mikey had thrown at him. How many times had he wished Frank would leave Mikey? How many times had he prayed for Frank’s affection even though Frank belonged to Mikey? Now Frank had left Mikey—or Mikey had left Frank—and Mikey was in absolute ruins.

Nowhere in his fantasies of Frank had he envisioned Mikey getting hurt. 

He just felt like it was his fault—if he hadn’t encouraged Frank to be so physical on stage…if he didn’t let Frank catch him staring when Mikey wasn’t around, maybe Mikey would still have his boyfriend… Have the one thing he ever wanted—someone to love him. 

“Gerard?” 

Gerard froze in the center of his kitchen and turned around to fix Frank with a sad stare. 

“Are you okay?”

He just kept staring at him, thinking that his silence would be enough. What did Frank honestly expect? Here they stood, two men in love at the wrong time.

Did he really think they could be together after what had happened with Mikey? Gerard didn’t want to hurt his brother…they were family, and that loyalty was stronger than the bond he had with Frank. 

“Gerard, I…I’m not going to ask if you want to make something work between us,” Frank said softly. “I mean…I think we _could_ make something work—really easily—but I couldn’t hurt Mikey by tossing him aside and hooking up with you in the same day.”

Gerard nodded quickly, even though he was feeling conflicted. It wasn’t that he wanted to grab Frank right that second and throw him down on the couch and do what he’d been dreaming for years…but whether Mikey liked it or not, he’d never felt about anyone the way he did about Frank. So maybe, Gerard thought, when Mikey found somebody else and was happy again, he and Frank could try for something. 

If they really loved each other, there was no need to rush.

“I mean…I’ve loved you from a distance for years—a few months isn’t going to hurt any more,” Frank said softly. Gerard closed his eyes slowly and tried not to think about how in-synch their thoughts were. Tried not to acknowledge how perfect they were for each other, and how awkward Frank and Mikey had been as a couple. 

“I’m just so worried about Mikey,” Gerard said weakly. “I’ve never seen him that mad before.”

“He’s Mikey,” Frank said. “He’ll be fine—he just needs some time.” Even though Frank had been dating Mikey for years, Gerard felt like he barely knew Mikey at all. When Mikey was angry he _stayed_ angry, he just learned to quit letting that anger show on his face. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey was trying hard not to think when he forced open the door to his and Frank’s apartment. He just wanted his wallet and to get the fuck out of the place that now held only horror when it used to have fond memories.

How many nights had they spent together on the couch? Holding each other, kissing, telling secrets and making love?

It didn’t matter anymore.

What about the bedroom? What about all of their “special” times—times that meant absolutely _nothing_ now. It had all been a lie. A big, vicious, unjustified ruse.

Mikey shoved his wallet deep into his pocket and grabbed his ipod off of the bedside table. He knew there were other things he should take, but chose to get out of the apartment as quickly as possible incase Frank came back. 

He didn’t know why he felt Frank would come chasing after him when he now had Gerard all to himself. A perfectly wounded and beat-up Gerard to cuddle and bathe with the affection that he had once forced himself to bestow on Mikey. 

Why come running to Mikey when he had pretty Gerard? 

Shaking his head, Mikey fled the apartment after pulling on his coat and went back out onto the streets. Park benches looked like the best place for him to spend the night, but he found himself incapable of standing still.

He just walked—in the middle of the Jersey night, he just walked—and let his legs take him wherever they wanted. He couldn’t stop at crosswalks if there was traffic, he’d just go around the corner and keep himself moving as he buried his face in the popped collar of his coat. 

He felt like he might cry, and he truly didn’t want to. He didn’t want Frank to have the satisfaction of reducing him to the Hollywood version of a broken heart. 

So he just stormed the streets, looking to passersby like a man on an urgent mission. He walked fast, with his chin lowered close to his chest and his eyes fixed on the pavement so he wouldn’t trip with his stupid, clumsy feet. 

How could Frank have ever loved him? He couldn’t even walk with grace whereas Gerard—although awkward in many ways—could fall down and look elegant doing it?

Mikey clicked his tongue and fisted his hands in his hair out of frustration. 

It pissed him off that he was mentally trashing himself like this—he didn’t want to be that weak. It angered him that Frank had never had the balls to speak up and tell—or even _show_ \--that he was so unhappy the whole time. He felt cheated—he felt _used._ Even if they couldn’t be lovers, they were supposed to be _friends._

That was what Mikey decided hurt him the most.

They were supposed to be friends…and friends just didn’t do shit like this to each other.

After walking for nearly three hours, Mikey’s legs landed him at a motel that looked sketchier than any horror film inn that he’d ever seen, but he went inside of the grungy, poorly-lit motel regardless. It didn’t really matter to him anymore if he died.

“Room for the night?” The innkeeper asked, looking up from his worn paperback. Something about the man’s bored expression told Mikey that not a lot of shit happened here besides prostitute hook-ups and lost, tired travelers. 

“You know what,” Mikey said as he opened his wallet and peered at the bills inside. “Make it three nights. I’ve got nowhere to be.” The innkeeper stared at him for a little while and then rang up the transaction on the cracked register. 

“Second floor, last room on the left,” the innkeeper said as he handed Mikey his key. 

“Thanks,” Mikey said with a surprisingly even voice. He was able to keep his mask of apathy, even when his chest was hurting him so badly. In a way (in a sad way) he was impressed with himself. 

The room he let himself into wasn’t exactly what he was used to on hotel nights during tour—or even what they’d stayed in during family vacations when he’d been a kid—but it wasn’t bad. He took of his coat and threw it on the floor beneath the coatrack in the cut-out closet and set the contents of his pockets on the chipped, stained, and warped bedside table and then let himself drop onto the lonely, sagging mattress without too much thought.

Who cared if he got bedbugs or even AIDS from the bedspread? He was fucking miserable, and even though his phone kept buzzing softly as someone tried to reach him, he felt completely and utterly alone. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey doesn’t get out of bed except for to use the bathroom during his three-day visit to the grungy motel. He refused the foreign room service and laid with his back to the door and the shades drawn over the windows. He unplugged the room’s phone incase somehow it rang and tore the alarm clock’s cord from the wall. His cell phone, however, he left on. It’s battery somehow staying alive even though he had nothing to charge it with.

He looked at it every now and then to see who’d called. 

Gerard, over forty missed calls and several voicemail messages that Mikey deleted without listening to. Frank, nine missed calls and one voicemail that Mikey wanted to listen to and wanted to delete. Bob had reached out to him once without a response, and Ray had called twice. His mother called him twice—or maybe it was his dad… He didn’t know. He refused to answer.

On his third night in the hotel, Mikey was making up his mind whether to venture back into the world of the people who ate daily and went to work, or to stay and hide in cheap hotels until he ran out of cash.

He’d called the bank to check the balance of his account and found that he had enough money to stay in the hotel for almost four years if he only spent three dollars a day on food.

It was plausible if he lived off of the dollar menu at the next fast-food restaurant he found…but it wouldn’t fuel his fading addiction to coffee.

Coffee was for happy people, he felt. And he wasn’t happy anymore. He couldn’t have coffee…all he could have were drawn shades and no sense of time. He only knew three days had past when the innkeeper knocked on his door and told him that he had an hour to pay for another night or get his things and get out.

“Mikey,” Frank’s recorded message began. “Look—I know you’re upset, but you can’t just hide from us. So please…come back—or at least call your brother. He’s freaking out—don’t lead him to think that this is his fault, okay? It’s between you and me, and he won’t listen when I tell him that. So just…talk to him so he doesn’t feel so guilty.” The message cuts off, but Mikey feels that Frank had more to say.

More about how he’s hurting Gerard and destroying the band. Because all Frank cares about is Gerard and making music…Mikey was never even part of the equation—he was just as close to Gerard as Frank thought he could get.

Turning off his phone so he wouldn’t have to hear anymore, Mikey decided that time away from the band was probably best for him. He didn’t want to see Frank and he didn’t want to look at perfect, pretty Gerard who always got what he wanted. 

So he put on his shoes and went down to the front desk and asked about keeping the room for a few weeks…a few weeks turned to a little over a month which Mikey spent slowly starving himself and living off of complimentary coffee from the lobby, water, and the occasional scrap of food he would find within the first few blocks away from the motel.

( ) ( ) ( )

“This is exactly why I told you in the beginning— _no relationships within the band,_ ” Brian said, arriving on the scene after Mikey disappeared. 

During the first few days everyone believed that Mikey was just off hiding and trying to mourn in private. After five days without contact, Gerard went to the police and reported his brother missing.

It pissed Frank off when they got a call shortly after from the police station saying that Mikey had come in and declared himself “not missing” after the innkeeper of his “undisclosed” motel informed him of his status as a missing person.

Mikey would rather go through the cops than call his friends himself and apologize for making everyone worry.

Well fuck Mikey, Frank thought. He was an asshole and no better than a sulking toddler if he was going to behave this way over a lousy break-up. He had no right to upset everyone this way…especially not his own _parents,_ and especially not Gerard!

“Now,” Brian said in his too-fucking-level voice, “you’re going to have to start looking in to hiring a new bass player, or let the company sign you one. You guys are about to go on _tour_ , and Mikey’s not here anymore. It’s not too small of a possibility that he’s not coming back, so you have to take this seriously.”

“Mikey will come back,” Gerard said, his hand shaking around his cup of coffee. “He _has_ to—he _loves_ this band. He wouldn’t walk out on us.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Brian said, his voice sounding like he didn’t care at all. “He already _did._ He hasn’t talked to any of you in a _month_. No one has heard from him for _a month._ ” He turned his eyes to Frank then and it made him feel like he was being judged. “You can believe what you want—that he’s got a bullet-proof vest on his heart and this turn of events didn’t matter to him—but the fact of the matter is that you’re due for tour and you’re missing your bass player. And don’t think that this has been over looked by the label, and don’t think that it’s been over looked by the public. People _know_ that Mikey’s walked off, okay? And if he doesn’t come back—and even if he does—people will want an answer as to why.”

Frank sighed and tried not to feel guilty. Even if he should’ve ended his relationship with Mikey _long_ ago, Mikey still needed to grow up and act like an adult about its ending. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey let himself into the practice studio and crept through the hallway slowly. He felt nervous—afraid of what would happen to him when he came into his bandmates’ lines of vision, but hoped they’d be sympathetic. After all—he’d been living a lie for years, was it so surprising that he’d had to get away for a little while?

He stood outside of the closed studio door for a moment, listening to their voices. They were discussing something, but it didn’t sound serious and he assumed they were taking a break.

Holding his breath, Mikey slowly pushed the studio door open, but just a crack. The voices became a little louder—audible—and Mikey felt wounded when he realized that he was the one they were discussing.

“—yeah, well, he can just grow up and come back,” Frank said harshly. “It’s not all about him. He has a right to be pissed at me, yeah, but to take it out on the band is immature.” Mikey felt a bolt of pain in his chest and pulled back from the doorway. Was it really that bad that he wanted to get away for a while in order to clear his head? He wouldn’t have played well anyway…

“Well, I’m gonna side with Mikey,” Ray said, sounding a little irritated even though his voice stayed even. “I mean, I wish he’d let one of us know where he went, but I don’t blame him for walking out. Say what you want, Frank, but you lied to him for almost three years. That’s gotta _hurt._ ”

“Yeah, well…well fuckin’ mind your own business,” Frank grumbled. 

“Even if he comes back just to quit the band...” Gerard started. “I just want to see him. I’m so fuckin’ worried…”

“I’m not picking sides here,” Bob said after a moment of silence. “But I told you—if you’d just date women you wouldn’t have this problem.” It was a joke meant to lessen the tension, Mikey could tell by the tone of his voice and he mentally thanked Bob for trying.

“Oh, fuck you,” Frank grumbled. 

Mikey could hear everyone picking up their instruments again and decided that there was no better time to make his presence known—or walk away. He really didn’t know if he could do this—not face Frank and Gerard, but face the band he’d walked out on without a sound. 

The more he thought, the more he realized he should have at least told Ray or Bob something.

Sinking his teeth into the inside of his lower lip, Mikey held his breath and stepped into the studio, hiding halfway behind the door and choosing to stare at his bandmates until one of them noticed him. It was too hard to breathe as it was, he couldn’t imagine talking…

Bob was picking at something on the sleeve of his sweater, sat behind his drum set. Ray was tuning his guitar and plucking at the strings softly. Something must’ve been wrong because he decided to examine his amp with an expression of great frustration.

“You guys ready?” Frank asked irritably, his back to the door and his eyes no doubt on Gerard who was bent over—setting a bottle of water down onto the floor.

Mikey wondered if the two of them were already fucking…he bet they were. He bet they started the second he left Gerard’s apartment. It was hard not to want to go over and punch Frank in the face.

“In a minute,” Ray said. “Something’s not right with this.” Mikey watched Ray work at the amp silently, finding something that wasn’t plugged in all of the way and smiling when it snapped back into place. 

“Hey there, stranger,” Bob said. At first Mikey didn’t know who Bob was talking to, but when he turned to look at the drummer he realized the man was staring at him. And then everyone else was staring, too. “It’s about time you got back,” he added, yawning as if they were having a casual conversation.

“Mikey!” Gerard called, ambushing him instantly. Mikey didn’t really think of the consequences before he held up his arms and pushed Gerard away when he attempted to wrap him into a hug. All he could see were images of Gerard wrapping those same arms around Frank—holding _his_ boyfriend close in his absence. He didn’t want anything to do with those guiltless arms.

He was still so distracted—he didn’t think that Gerard would get mad.

“Well fine!” Gerard snapped. Mikey locked gazes with him and glared—but only because Gerard was glaring at him. “I just wanted to tell you I missed you, and that I was fucking worried about you—but you’re in fucking ‘don’t touch me’ mode so whatever!”

Mikey could’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t afraid of what Gerard would do if he let him out of his site for a split second. Of course Gerard would make it all about himself. Mikey was the one who had been lied to for years, but Gerard was the victim of it all.

Mikey had thought Frank was happy—if he’d known the truth he would’ve let Frank go and Gerard could have had him years ago. It was Frank’s fault!—He was the one who deserved the angry stares and raised voices.

“Are you just going to stand there!?” Gerard screamed after Mikey failed to respond. Mikey glanced around the room as he thought of two words—any word really—to use his voice after speaking maybe twelve words a day for weeks. 

Frank was scowling at him like he was the enemy, Bob had his head in his hands and was shaking it in frustration, and Ray was looking at Mikey helplessly. 

“You could’ve at least called Mom!” Gerard shouted. “Do you know how worried she is?” 

Mikey was an adult. He didn’t need to consult his mommy every time he went through a break up. 

“Say something!” Gerard cried out. Mikey looked at him tiredly and shrugged. As soon as he opened his mouth, though, Frank interrupted. Mikey didn’t hear what he said—his mind was blotted out with red dots of pure rage.

He _hated_ Frank. He hated that Frank’s voice still made his heart race. He _hated_ that through all of this shit, he still loved Frank. He thought he was happy! He thought Frank was happy with him! If he’d had even the slightest clue, he would’ve let him go with a forced smile and secret tears!—If he hadn’t found out the way he had!

“Fuck this,” Mikey said, surprising himself when his voice came out in a loud shout. “Forget it.” He felt the pain tear through him as soon as he turned his back. 

“Oh, quit running from everything, Mikey!” Frank shouted after him.

“Frank,” Gerard said firmly, a warning. Why the hell was Gerard taking his side? It was probably just a show…another lie to make him believe that he was cared about by these people.

“Mikey, wait!” It was Ray’s voice, but Mikey ignored it. He let his heartbreak possess his legs and allowed them to carry him away just as they had before. He could hear Ray chasing after him, calling for him to wait—just to wait—but he just walked faster. 

He didn’t know what he would say if Ray caught him—so he made sure to walk faster. Each step drove the spike in his chest deeper—the pain exploding as his emotional turmoil struck physical blows to his heart. 

Mikey didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he went back, but he’d been hoping to pretend like it never happened. He wanted to just let them know he’d be at the next practice…he just had to pick up his guitar. He’d heard Gerard in his head just saying ‘okay, cool.’ And then it was all over. He’d go to Frank’s, get his guitar and a few other things, go to some hotel and go back to sleep.

But no…everyone blamed him when it was Frank’s fault. 

He’d thought Frank was happy—it killed him. He’d thought Frank was _happy._ He didn’t know he’d made the man he loved fucking _miserable._ He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone—all he’d wanted was to make Frank as happy as Frank made him. He really hadn’t known he was hurting him…

Mikey stopped at the first hotel he found and paid for a week’s stay, not having the energy to rush through the city like he had before. He didn’t eat anymore…he barely drank anything…he felt like he was dying but he didn’t care.

When he got into the hotel room—its curtains drawn defensively against the harsh sun—he felt the first tear fall down his cheek and felt completely broken. If love led to this, he’d make sure he’d never love again. He’d never trust again as it was—it was just safer to make sure he didn’t feel anything close to affection again. 

For years he’d been able to hide his pain from Frank—now all he needed was to hide his pain from himself and he’d be fine. And after he hid the pain, he would hide his love. Who cared if he became an empty shell? No one would ever love him anyway—he didn’t need to have a personality anymore. 

Mikey didn’t sob, even though more tears fell after the first had broken through. The tears he couldn’t help, but the sounds he could. He didn’t need to cry like a baby because his boyfriend broke his heart…he didn’t need to….he didn’t need to…

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray shook his head in a mixture of disgust, frustration, and exhaustion as he watched Gerard and Frank lock lips on the couch in the practice studio. Mikey’d been gone for another month and they’d decided to hook up in his absence. Nobody really knew what had happened between Mikey and Frank—no one but the two men involved—but Ray had a feeling Frank was the one at fault. 

And guilty of more than just telling Mikey it was over. 

Ray could never help but wonder what the hell Frank had been doing with Mikey when he always looked at Gerard. Frank used to look at Mikey in a similar way…but those looks had slowly disappeared along with Mikey’s kisses and hugs. Frank had probably been trying to send Mikey a message for years, Ray thought, but Mikey never caught on. 

He’d trusted Frank to be honest with him. Mikey had loved that man _so fucking much._ He’d never seen the break up coming…he didn’t think Frank’s affection towards Gerard was anything serious.

He’d been blindsided and betrayed, and Ray didn’t blame him for walking out. 

Ray didn’t know the whole story, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Gerard were involved in the mess more than he let on. Were he and Frank having an affair? Was that what Mikey found out? Was that why he snapped? 

Gerard was the reason it all ended, but it was Frank’s fault that it ended so badly. If he’d just been honest with Mikey instead of leading him on, it wouldn’t have hurt him so much.

“I love you, okay?” Frank mumbled to Gerard, who lay beneath him on the couch. Gerard nodded softly and Ray couldn’t help but feel that this display was too private for the practice studio. He didn’t want to see them making out and swapping lovey-dovey phrases. Mikey was still out there somewhere hiding, in pain and all alone, and all these guys wanted was to get their rocks off with each other and act like nothing else was happening. 

Ray was mad at them, even though he knew it wasn’t good for the band to pick sides after the break up. He couldn’t help but think that if they behaved this way, he didn’t want to be in their band. Let them make music on their own—moan into the microphone a few times and let the girls see how pretty they look—Ray would leave and he and Mikey would find some other group to play with. 

And maybe Bob would come with them, too.

“Okay, skip the soft porn and let’s get back to practicing,” Bob called. Ray nodded in agreement with him and ignored the annoyed look Frank gave him. Since he’d tried to pursue Mikey after the argument in the studio instead of defending Gerard, Frank had been less than pleasant to him. 

If this behavior kept up, there wasn’t going to be a band…

( ) ( ) ( )

_“Well no shit, Gerard!”_ Gerard cringed as his mother yelled at him over the phone for the third time that month. _“ You can’t just scoop up your brother’s ex—of course he’s not going to be happy with you!”_

“But mom, it’s—”

_“We’re you two going behind his back?”_

“No!” Gerard cried out in his own defense. “I didn’t even know Frank liked me that way before—I don’t know what happened that night. Frank hasn’t told me and Mikey hasn’t been around, but I had nothing to do with it…”

_“Don’t give me that,”_ his mother muttered angrily. She just helped Gerard feel worse when all he wanted in the world was to feel better. Being with Frank wasn’t making anything better…he finally had what he wanted, but he couldn’t even have sex without breaking down in the middle of it, crying from the guilt of what had happened with Mikey.

That guilt didn’t stop him from running into Frank’s arms immediately after hanging up the phone, however. It didn’t keep him from kissing Frank on the mouth or running his hands over his object of affection’s body. And that distraction didn’t keep him from wondering if Mikey had touched Frank this same way—or if Frank had touched Mikey the way he was touching him now…

“Are you okay?” Frank asked softly, kissing his ear and then his neck…then his mouth. Gerard sighed and leaned into the affection, letting Frank hold him the way he had to have held Mikey before to keep him convinced that they still had a relationship. “We should get some sleep…”

“Do you think Mikey will come back?” Gerard asked, knowing that nobody would know for sure.

“Yeah. He did once before. We’ll all just be nicer this time so we don’t scare him away again,” Frank said. Gerard hummed sadly. “And I’ll stay out of his face…”

“I don’t know if he’ll stay in the band anymore,” Gerard said, feeling tears prick his eyes. Why couldn’t he have controlled himself when Mikey showed up in the studio? Why did he have to yell when he knew Frank had broken Mikey’s heart? “I just want him to know I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Frank said. “You didn’t do anything—I’m just in love with you instead of him. It’s me—not you.” Gerard laid down on the couch with his head in Frank’s lap, letting his new boyfriend pet his hair. It felt right, even though all of it was wrong.

So, so wrong…

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray had been sorting his CDs and tapes when he heard the soft knock on his apartment door. He looked up from the pool of plastic cases on the floor and stared at the door for a moment, not sure if someone was actually visiting him at home or not. The knock came again and Ray got to his feet slowly, knees stiff from sitting cross legged for so long. 

“Coming,” he said quickly. Before opening the door he looked through the peephole like any sensible city-dweller and gasped before scrabbling with the lock. “Mikey—how’s it going? Are you alright?”

Mikey was standing outside of his door, silent and with his eyes downcast. He looked so thin, his face gaunt and the rest of him hidden within his coat. 

“Hey, come in, man,” Ray said, gesturing for Mikey to come inside. Mikey walked slowly and sat down immediately on the couch in the living room without a word, leaving Ray to close and relock the door in silence. “What’s up?”

“I’m tired of hotels,” Mikey mumbled, voice raw. 

“You can stay here,” Ray said, probably too eagerly. He’d missed Mikey—he’d been gone for two full months without a word. Mikey was his best friend—he’d been lonely and worried. 

“Thanks,” Mikey said. “Can I borrow some clean clothes? I haven’t washed these—they’re the only outfit I have.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ray said quickly. He didn’t bother to ask Mikey why he didn’t buy new clothes or go to his and Frank’s apartment and get his things. “Do you want to take a shower or anything? I’ve got clean towels.” Mikey looked up from the couch and met Ray’s gaze for the first time.

“Is that a rarity in the Toro house?” He asked, smiling slightly. “Clean towels?”

“Not as rare as in your house,” Ray rebuked. 

“I shower more than Gerard so shut up.” Even after two three months, when he said his brother’s name he flinched. “How is…Gerard?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“He and Frank hooked up,” Ray confessed. Mikey nodded slowly and stared at the carpet. “Gerard’s been pretty upset since you left, though.” Mikey hummed neutrally. “You know, you should call your mom—she’s worried about you.”

“I don’t have anything to say—what, Gerard stole my boyfriend? Am I sixteen?”

“No,” Ray said, sitting down beside Mikey on the couch, “but you’re—”

“Acting like it?” Mikey asked irritably.

“No—I’d be pissed off too if I were you. I just wouldn’t have the guts to show it like you do.”

“I ran away,” Mikey said in a bitter tone.

“Yeah—like the ultimate cold shoulder…except, I’d suggest a little more chocolate cake and comfort food. Don’t you eat anymore?”

“Yeah. Every now and then.”

“Frank’s not worth this,” Ray said quietly, knowing he was speaking out of turn but letting his feelings get the best of him.

“I’m gonna take that shower,” Mikey said quickly, standing up from the couch. He walked towards the bathroom like a man who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“Okay,” Ray said, getting up just as fast. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

Mikey threw his coat down on the floor outside of the bathroom door and waited until Ray brought him a complete outfit that was going to be too big for him no matter what either of them did. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to wear your boxers,” Mikey said, picking at the pile of clothes. “These better be fuckin’ clean.” Ray laughed and let Mikey get away with pretending to see humor when he was this miserable.

“I’ll be in the living room,” Ray said to the closed door. Mikey didn’t answer and Ray went back to sorting his CDs while Mikey spent a god-awful amount of time in the shower.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing your boxers,” Mikey said as soon as he left the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel and holding Ray’s too-big pants up with his free hand. “I feel like a fucking anorexic midget when I wear your clothes. Where do you get off being so tall?”

Ray laughed quietly and shrugged.

“I don’t know—where do you get off winning all of the fans?” Ray hadn’t expected Mikey to frown at the joke.

“See, you’re mistaking me for Gerard, too. I didn’t think we looked that much alike.” Mikey sat down on the floor beside Ray and stared at the pool of CDs and tapes.

“What do you mean?” Ray asked, trying to decipher the words.

“Nothing,” Mikey said quietly. “I feel like I’m wearing a goddamned skirt—like a full-length skirt—under these jeans.”

“I’m not that fat,” Ray said, laughing again even though it wasn’t that funny anymore.

“Gerard’s fat,” Mikey seethed. Ray ignored the outburst and let Mikey vent. He cared about him too much to start a fight. Frank was on Gerard’s side—Mikey needed someone to fight for him, too. 

“I think I weigh more than him,” Ray said softly, sifting through his CDs.

“Yeah, but you’re tall. Gerard’s just…fat.”

“He and Frank were going behind your back, weren’t they,” Ray asked quietly. He was actually surprised when Mikey shook his head no.

“No. I guess I’m thankful for that…I just thought Frank was happy.” 

“Do you want me to go with you to get your stuff? So you won’t have to…be alone?” Mikey shrugged. “Then you won’t have to wear my fat-person clothes.” Mikey’s face broke with a small smile. 

“Whatever,” Mikey answered.

“They’re looking for a new bass player,” Ray said, not wanting to dwell on the subject too long in fear that Mikey would storm out.

“I’m fired?” Mikey asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat immediately, as if to insinuate that it was because his throat was sticking. 

“Well…not really. They just decided you weren’t coming back. We go on tour next month.”

“That’s why I came back…I love the band. I don’t love Frank anymore, but I love this band. But if they want someone else then…I’ll see if Green Day needs a new guitar or something.”

“We don’t want anyone else—we just need someone to play bass.”

“I want to come back,” Mikey muttered. “I just wanted some time to myself.” 

“You can stay here,” Ray said. “So you don’t have to worry about finding an apartment and paying for it while we’re on tour.”

“Thanks,” Mikey mumbled. “I was thinking of telling Frank to move in with Gerard so I could have our apartment, but I decided I don’t want it. Too many…bad memories.”

“What happened that night?” Ray dared to ask. Mikey shrugged the question away.

“I just thought he was happy, Ray. I _really_ thought he was happy.”

“People don’t disappear for three months because they thought their lover was happy and found out he wasn’t…Did he hurt you?” Mikey shrugged. “Did he?” Ray asked again, wondering if something had turned physical. Maybe what Mikey had been hiding was a bruised up face.

“I just thought he was happy,” Mikey said quietly. “I thought we were in love.” Ray let the conversation drop and refocused on his CDs.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikey felt more nervous than he had when he returned to the band for the first time, even though Ray was standing behind him and offering him support. He felt vulnerable because he knew that anything anyone said to him would make him react, and he didn’t want to react. 

“S’up, Mikey?” Bob said, as casually as ever as soon as Mikey set foot in the practice studio. Mikey nodded in Bob’s direction, silently sending him a greeting. 

“Mikey!” Gerard called, just like before. And, just like before, his brother instantly came over to him. Gerard didn’t try to hug him this time—he actually gave Mikey his space. “I’m so glad you’re back—are you okay?”

Was he okay? Of course not. 

Mikey just stared at him for a moment until he couldn’t resist the urge to look for Frank in the room. His object of affection was curled around his guitar, acting as if he were tuning it unaware of the events unfolding around him. 

Mikey looked back to Gerard who was wringing his hands anxiously…hands he now had the freedom to run _all over_ Frank’s body. 

He felt the rage and the jealousy bubble up inside of him, but kept his face blank. He had to—if he reacted, he felt like he would lose something. His privacy, maybe…or his emotionless façade. 

What did Frank and Gerard talk about? Mikey wondered. Did they discuss him? Did they sit together on _his_ couch and swap stories about how annoying they found him? Did Frank tell Gerard about how stupid he thought Mikey was because he couldn’t pick up on all of the obvious signals? 

Mikey was so, so pissed, but his face stayed empty—quiet and blank. 

“It’s okay, Mikey,” Ray whispered into Mikey’s ear as he passed him on his way into the room. He rubbed Mikey’s shoulder and Mikey found himself compelled to watch him walk to his little space in the studio where he worked on setting up his guitar.

“Mikey?” Gerard attempted. Mikey looked back at his brother and felt the familiar jealousy plague him again. Mikey couldn’t even look at him…

Attractive Gerard—perfect voice, perfect face…perfect vision. Frank had to be so happy now that he had _this_ instead of the unconditional love of the not-so-perfect younger brother. His only hope was that Frank ripped out Gerard’s heart and threw it onto the pavement…just like he’d done with his.

“So you’re uh…you’re gonna be at practice tomorrow?” Gerard asked. Mikey started nodding without looking Gerard in the eye. He was actually focused on Ray…plugging in his amp and catering to his guitar’s every need. 

Mikey found himself absurdly wishing that someone would bestow the same amount of dedication upon him…

“I’ll just…hang out for a bit today,” Mikey said quietly, happy he could keep his voice empty as he watched Ray work.

“Okay,” Gerard said quickly. “Um…not too much has changed. Ray…wrote some new stuff for the bass parts—but, they’re probably at his place.”

“They are,” Ray said. “And some stuff for our new songs.” Mikey nodded slowly and walked away from Gerard to reach Ray’s side. He felt some sort of security when he stood by Ray. Ray was, after all, the only person he trusted…Well, apart from Bob who was watching everything unfold nervously.

“So you’ll come by and…get your guitar?” Frank asked, not looking at Mikey…not looking at anyone.

“I guess,” Mikey said. It was the first thing he’d said to Frank in months…and it felt strange. He wished he didn’t have to talk to him, but he knew that—for the sake of the band—he had to speak. He couldn’t just mope around in corners feeling sorry for himself and wishing he was still living a lie in blissful ignorance. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had intentionally dragged his feet on his walk home from the diner he ate lunch at after practice was over and he’d returned his guitar to his apartment. Mikey said he was going to pick up some of his things and take them to Ray’s where he was staying until after the tour was over…

He drug his feet because he didn’t want to be in the apartment alone with Mikey—Mikey needed his space. Mikey needed room to breathe.

And, above all else, Frank was ashamed and couldn’t bear to look at him let alone spend time with him without the others around. Even if Mikey’s reaction to their whole break-up wasn’t perfect, Frank realized that he couldn’t blame him for acting as he had.

Because when he was lying in bed with Gerard and asked him if he was happy, Gerard said yes. Gerard said yes…and Frank didn’t believe him. When Gerard said he was happy, Frank envisioned that this was all some kind of mind game—that Gerard was doing to Frank what Frank had done to Mikey. 

Frank was sure that if Gerard strung him along for two years only to tell him that it was all a lie, he’d want to hide his face, too. He’d want to run away and disappear, even if there wasn’t another man that Gerard had eyes on. Being lied to hurt…

He felt stupid for not realizing that until it was too late. He knew he was a better man than this, and he couldn’t blame Mikey. It was his fault, not Mikey’s…

Slowly, Frank let himself into his apartment and paused at the door, listening for any sounds. The space was quiet, so he stepped further inside and closed the door behind him. He didn’t know what to expect—broken furniture, missing appliances…

As Frank rounded the corner into the living room, his hand immediately clasped over his mouth to catch the half-shriek, half-gasp that caught in his throat. 

_Oh, God,_ he thought. Over and over, _oh, God!_

His chest tightened so quickly he could barely take a breath—and when he did breathe it shot pains through his entire body. It was so hard to take even one step towards the horror on the living room floor.

Broken, he thought. It was all he could think to break his frantic mantra. 

Guitar, he thought. 

Broken. 

On the floor.

“No!” He cried out, staring through the dim light at the two pieces that had once been a whole guitar. “No—No, no!”

He forced himself to step closer to the mess, willing himself to believe that it wasn’t his guitar. Mikey hadn’t come into his home and smashed his guitar in his absence? Mikey couldn’t do that—he _knew_ Frank loved that guitar!

Frank forced himself to get closer to the broken instrument and felt one horror be quickly replaced by relief and a vicious pang of nausea. 

It wasn’t Frank’s guitar lying broken on the floor—it was Mikey’s.

“Oh, shit,” he breathed. What the hell was this supposed to mean? That he quit the band? But why? Everything had gone well at practice—sure, Mikey seemed sad, but he didn’t look even half as bad as he had the first time he’d come back. “Oh, Goddamnit, Mikey,” Frank moaned.

What was he supposed to tell everyone? “Oh, hey, I came home and—uh—it was really weird. Mikey’s guitar was just laying in two pieces on my floor. Wonder what that could mean, right?”

“Fuck,” Frank sighed, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair. He needed to find out where Mikey was, because he sure as hell wasn’t in the apartment. He _wanted_ to call Gerard, but didn’t want to worry him…

It would have to be Ray. Ray was the only one who could have the slightest clue as to where Mikey could be or how he was behaving…

“Ray?” Frank said quickly into his phone. When Ray didn’t respond quickly, Frank repeated himself. “Ray? Hello—are you there? Ray?”

“Yeah, Frank. I’m here—what’s the matter?” Ray asked, not sounding as concerned as he should be.

“Where’s Mikey? Have you seen Mikey?—is he with you?”

“No—I thought he was getting his stuff,” Ray said. “Why? Did he not come?”

“I—He…” Frank stammered and groaned as he looked at the broken guitar on the floor. “Oh, God he was here. Weren’t you going to come with him?”

“Why do you sound so upset? What happened? Did he torch the place or something?”

“He—His guitar. His guitar—he smashed it on my floor.”

“What!?” Ray finally sounded alarmed. “Oh, God—what does that even…He was _fine_ earlier! He can’t quit the band!” It was what Frank feared, too. A smashed guitar meant he couldn’t play at practice the next day, let alone stay in the band… “Did you tell Gerard?”

Frank felt like there was a meaning behind those words, and it hurt him. He knew Ray was against his and Gerard’s relationship. Now, it was as if he were asking if he’d called and cried to Gerard about the mess Mikey had left. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“I wish I hadn’t dropped my guitar,” Mikey said out of the blue to the man sitting beside him at the bar. 

“You play guitar?” The man asked, offering Mikey a smile as he twisted the toothpick in his martini glass. It was the man’s third drink, and Mikey was on his third beer.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “But I…I _dropped_ my guitar today.”

“Well…what did you drop it for?” The man asked. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Mikey said, staring at his reflection in the mirror behind the bottles of liqueur on the wall behind the bar. “I was carrying it…like, out of the room or something and I heard a noise.” Mikey looked at the guy who was staring at him and smiling with boozy eyes. “I just…like, flinched and dropped it.”

“Guitars are sturdy—I’m sure it’s fine,” the guy said. Did you check it?”

“It must’ve fallen just right,” Mikey said, looking away from the guy and staring at his beer. “It… _broke._ ”

“Guitars just don’t break,” the guy said, sounding happy and friendly. “Did you smash it pretending you were on stage?”

“No!” Mikey said, not forcefully, but surprised. “But I don’t get it—I just _dropped_ it. It broke. It broke into two pieces… Guitars don’t break into two pieces when they fall three feet…”

“You said you flinched,” the guy said, scooting closer on his bar stool. “Did you throw it on accident? I’m sure the right angle at the right speed could _maybe_ break your guitar in half.”

“It’s not _in half,_ ” Mikey argued. “Like…it was like a crack, and then, when I poked at it, this big chunk came off. It was like a nightmare.”

“So now you’re drinking instead of buying another one?” 

“It made me sad,” Mikey mumbled. “I’m in kind of a confusing place. I’m in a band and they think I want to quit—now I don’t have a guitar and I might have to.”

“Just buy a new one,” the guy said. “A _better_ one.”

“Yeah,” Mikey sighed, taking a drink of his beer and then looking at the man beside him again. Blonde…kind of an awkwardly shaped face, but not an ugly one. Hair spiked up in the front…lips pursed a little.

“So you’re in a band—is it famous?” He smiled when he asked, like he didn’t think it was. Mikey guessed it really wasn’t _that_ famous. It was known by people in the scene, but not many others.

“Maybe,” Mikey answered. “What do you do all day?”

“I work in a department store—I’m a supervisor.” The man batted his eyelashes and Mikey raised his eye brow. Charming…

“What store?” Mikey asked, wondering if he’d been there. Assuming by the guy’s dress—too posh and polished—he bet he hadn’t. 

“What’s your band called?” The man asked. 

“My Chemical Romance,” Mikey said. The guy pulled a face, but not an annoyed or disgusted one—like an interested, curious one.

“Sounds like…drug addiction.”

“Yeah, well…my brother writes most of the lyrics and…that’s what he’s into, so…” He didn’t care if he just painted his brother as an addict. 

“That’s gotta be hard,” the guy said. “I’m sorry I pried.”

“It’s cool,” Mikey said. 

“Do you…Do you wanna get out of here?” The guy asked. “You’re mourning the loss of your faithful guitar—you need more than cheap beer.” Mikey stared at the guy…the kind of cute guy with the big lips…

“Okay,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Steven. What’s yours?”

“Michael,” Mikey said, not knowing why he wanted to stay formal, but assuming it had to do with Frank.

“Sexy,” Steven said, smirking. “Come on—I know a place that’ll serve drunk people.”

“I’m not drunk,” Mikey said as he slid some cash to the bartender and got off of his seat. 

“I am,” Steven said, giggling and looking at Mikey like he thought he was the best thing ever. It was weird—no one looked at him like that when he wasn’t with the band or on stage. Frank surely never looked at him quite like this…Mikey inwardly cursed himself because he liked it. 

Fuck. He liked this guy…

( ) ( ) ( )

“Ray?”

“Mikey! What the hell!?” Mikey pulled Steven’s phone back from his ear as his friend screamed down it at him. 

“Hey—don’t worry, but I’m probably not going to be home tonight,” he whispered. Steve was downstairs, rewrapping their leftovers from the restaurant into containers that ‘wouldn’t let everything spoil,’ but Mikey still didn’t want him to hear the conversation.

“Why!?” Ray shouted.

“Well, don’t get angry,” Mikey said, probably still a little drunk since it was hard to feel anything besides giddiness and dizziness. He had a man for the night—he had a man when Frank probably thought he’d be alone forever and ever. He’d proved them all wrong—because for the first time in months, he wouldn’t wake up alone. It was something worth being giddy over.

“Why did you smash your guitar?” Ray snapped. “What is your problem—I thought you were coming back!”

“Shh,” Mikey hissed, before realizing that Steven couldn’t hear Ray shouting. Then he just started to laugh. “Shh—No, I didn’t smash it—I dropped it.”

“Guitars don’t break in half when you drop them!”

“It didn’t break in half,” Mikey said, looking around the bedroom Steven had guided him to in order to use the phone. “Why would Frank say that? It cracked and when I poked it, this big piece fell off. It’s not broke in half…I’ll buy a new one tomorrow.”

“So wait…so wait, you broke it on _accident?_ ” Ray asked. At the same time, Steven called for him from downstairs.

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “Yup—well, don’t expect me home.”

“Why? You’re not at a hotel?”

“No,” Mikey said, laughing. “No, no, no—I gotta go, though—I’ll see you tomorrow!” Mikey hung up, feeling better since people wouldn’t worry about him, and almost overjoyed because Frank wasn’t the only one who could get male attention. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey felt alive for the first time in months—Steven kissing beneath his chin and pulling him down over him onto the bed. It didn’t matter if this night meant anything to this stranger or not, Mikey wasn’t looking for love. All he wanted was to feel wanted and to be, for just a few quick minutes, the only thing on this person’s mind for reasons beyond worry. 

At first he’d had a little bit of trouble letting go of his senses. Steven started kissing him and Mikey tried pulling away. But as he watched Steven’s face fall with rejection, sadness, and shame, he realized that this was just what he needed. 

No one-night-stand was going to devastate him. It couldn’t hurt him any more than he already was, so why hold back? Steven was attractive—Steven was _attracted_ to him, why shouldn’t they spend their evening together?

Why should Mikey let his memories and feelings for Frank get in the way? 

“You’re so sexy,” the stranger mumbled against Mikey’s skin as they undressed themselves and each other. “So fuckin’ skinny,” Steven panted in his ear. Mikey couldn’t think of anything to say back, not used to making sound let alone speaking when making out with someone. He made his hands do the talking instead—running them down the stranger’s foreign sides, gripping at his arms and his thighs or the back of his neck.

It was strange. Steven was so into him. It was different than with Frank, even though he and Steven were both a little drunk. It felt like he was wanted—Steven just kept telling him over and over that he was sexy and skinny, and _good_ at what he was doing. He could suddenly see in his mind every cue Frank had ever given him that he’d missed.

Frank only called him attractive when Mikey asked him to. Frank didn’t hold onto him like he was afraid Mikey was going to get up and leave… Frank didn’t let Mikey fuck him.

Ever. 

But Steven was letting Mikey take command, even though Mikey was a stranger to him. Mikey didn’t care what role he played so long as he woke up beside someone when it was done. He wasn’t looking for the picture perfect Hollywood hookup to repair his damaged relationship—he just wanted company for the night. 

And Steven was grateful, sexy company. Mikey couldn’t have imagined anything better than the feeling he got when this virtual stranger—after a few minutes of prep and foreplay—laid back and let him push inside. 

The heat, the tightness, the _intensity._ It’d been so long since he’d felt this way. Frank never let him have this, and he felt so cheated. So cheated, in fact, he wished Frank had left him sooner so he could’ve been doing this with someone instead of lying flat on the mattress and pretending that being fucked dry until blood started to ooze didn’t hurt. 

“Mm—Michael,” Steven moaned. It was almost the right name. He preferred hearing Mikey over Michael, but anything was better than Gerard… “Michael, Michael!” It was kind of…annoying. Mikey wished he’d be quiet, because every time he said his name, he remembered when Frank hadn’t said it. 

Mikey grabbed Steven’s legs and pushed them back so he could thrust deeper, letting himself get lost in the sensations. Why worry about Frank when he had this now? When he had Steven moaning and crying his name—telling him he was so good and so sexy. 

Steven started screaming as Mikey began moving faster, getting closer to tipping over the edge. It was obnoxious –Mikey didn’t like it, but Steven was so attractive that Mikey let him get away with it. Steven had his arms wrapped around Mikey’s shoulders and scratched, scratched, scratched. 

Frank had never held onto him so desperately. Frank never screamed his name, or stopped screaming just to kiss him…

Mikey felt more wanted by this stranger than he ever had been by Frank, and it was devastating. But since he couldn’t express the emotion, he swallowed it down and lost himself in the movements and his new lover’s screams and moans.

There was almost no release when he came—because once the feeling was over, he had nothing to hide in. 

“So good,” Steven panted, lying flat beneath Mikey. Mikey watched the other man’s chest rise and fall with his heavy breaths and pulled back slowly, letting go of Steven’s legs and realizing just how tightly he’d been gripping them. He was afraid he might have left bruises holding those legs like lifelines. 

Mikey didn’t say anything about it, he just laid down at Steven’s side and contemplated cuddling up to him. He chose to lay his head on the man’s shoulder, not wanting him to feel rejected or unappreciated. Mikey wanted to wake up with someone at his side, not get sent back to Ray’s apartment burned out and a still a little wasted. 

Then, after Steven sighed in an almost disheartened way, Mikey spoke a suggestion that he knew he shouldn’t. A question that invited all sorts of trouble and complications…

“Would you…want to go with me tomorrow to buy my new bass—my new guitar?” 

Steven shifted and curled an arm around Mikey’s shoulder. 

He’d destroyed the sacredness of the one night stand in a few simple words.

“Really?” Steven asked. “You’d want me to go with you?”

“I…I don’t know,” Mikey said, suddenly getting nervous and feeling awkward. “Dumb question. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Steven said. “No—it’s not a dumb question. But…you really want me to go with you?”

“I don’t know,” Mikey said again. 

“How about…we talk about this in the morning?” Steven asked, laughing quietly. Mikey felt the familiar bolt of pain in his chest and let his head slowly slide off of Steven’s shoulder.

Rejection. It was the one thing he couldn’t handle and it was exactly what he felt was happening. 

Steven rolled onto his side with his back facing Mikey, and against his better judgment, Mikey pressed himself into the curve of his back and sighed. Even if this night meant nothing, it was still better than the hotels and Ray’s couch…


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard moaned and rolled over onto his side, inhaling the cold morning air that mixed with the musty scent of his pillow. He shifted his legs slowly, consciously and carefully untangling them from Frank’s. 

He stared at the headboard blankly, feeling more than a little lost. 

He’d managed to make it through a night with Frank—they’d drank a little, they’d made out a little…Gerard drank a little more and then Frank made his move. Gerard hadn’t been too intoxicated to take part, or too drunk to realize what was happening. With the alcohol to help curb his inhibitions, he’d managed to have sex with his brother’s ex.

Gerard closed his eyes tightly and tried to fight the feelings of guilt and self-loathing that washed over him. 

He _loved_ Frank. He _wanted_ Frank. He’d _always_ loved and wanted Frank… He just wished could feel happy.

What was he supposed to do? Deny himself happiness because his brother had been hurt? It wasn’t his fault that Frank had drug the dead relationship out for so long. 

It was just so hard to convince himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong… Mikey should be happy for him—happy that he found someone who truly loves him. Even if that person was Frank. 

But Mikey was missing again. Sure, one night wasn’t enough time to warrant a panic attack, but Gerard couldn’t help but worry. Mikey had disappeared for months before, he was scared that it would happen again.

“You know, he probably just went home with somebody,” Frank said groggily, wrapping his arms around Gerard slowly. Frank always seemed to know what he was thinking…and not just because most of his thoughts were about Mikey.

“Do you think so?” Gerard asked, picking his head up off of the pillow slowly.

“Yeah,” Frank said quietly, cuddling close. “Ray said he sounded drunk—and that he wasn’t coming home that night. He probably went to the bar after his guitar broke and met someone.”

“Do you really…think so?” Gerard asked, trying not to think about the broken guitar. Mikey had told Ray that it was an accident, but guitars just don’t break like that…

“Yeah,” Frank said, propping himself up slowly. “You know, he’s not ugly. He can get someone to take him home really fast.” Gerard smiled and laughed softly, reacting more to Frank’s friendly and patient tone. “All he has to do is put on those puppy-dog eyes, look across the room and—bam! Guys fall all over him.” Gerard rolled over onto his back and stared up at Frank’s eyes.

He loved waking up this way, even if he felt guilty for it the rest of the day. Just being within arm’s reach of Frank made him so happy…and to finally have him for a lover was just amazing. Even if he couldn’t really show Frank how happy he was yet, there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than in his arms.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey opened his eyes to brightness—everything so well-lit that it hurt his eyes. He moaned softly and closed them tighter, inhaling deeply through his nose and smelling strange fabric softener and familiar sweat.

He remember the night before—remembered being a little drunk through the thrum of his headache, remembered going home with some cute blonde guy…remembered being sure he was only doing this one-night-stand so he wouldn’t have to wake up alone for the first time in months.

But the bed he was in was empty.

Mikey sighed softly, trying not to let sadness overcome him as he sat up slowly. 

It was quickly becoming the worst day ever. He had to buy a new guitar because he’d broken his, he’d reduced himself to one-night-stands out of sheer desperation for attention, and he had the worst fucking headache in his life. 

He looked around the bright room, squinting from the light and the blurriness of being blind. He sure as hell hoped he hadn’t lost his glasses somehow in the black spots of his memory. There was some relief when he found his glasses folded neatly on the bedside table, and he spotted the rest of his oversized, borrowed clothes on the floor close to the bed. 

Mikey tried not to get upset as his thoughts currently reminded him that all he wanted was to wake up with someone at his side, and now he still woke up alone. He tried to just slowly dress himself, listening to the virtual silence of the strange house.

Had this guy really just _left_ with a stranger in his bed?

“No, no, no!—No!” Mikey jumped at the forceful sound of the nearly unfamiliar voice and fell back against the bed while pulling on his shoe. “ _No,_ ” the blonde man—Steven, Mikey remembered—Steven said as he rushed up to Mikey and then leaned over top of him when he fell onto the mattress.

All Mikey could think was what the hell had he gotten himself into… He really hoped this wasn’t some sort of obsessive, possessive stalker who had the one-night-stand mixed up for a serious relationship… Mikey barely even remembered the night.

“I was making you breakfast,” the blonde said. “For in bed—you weren’t supposed to wake up yet.” He was smiling though, like he found Mikey being awake to be a plus. 

“Oh.” It was all Mikey could think to say. He just stared up at the blonde and tried to decide if he should force on a smile or not. 

“Are you okay?” The guy asked, leaning back and giving Mikey more space. “I made…bacon, some sausage and cheese omelets…I’ve got orange juice.” Mikey couldn’t help but stare. “Is that…too much?” Steven pulled a nervous face and Mikey started to grin faintly. 

This was so much better than waking up beside someone asleep. This guy actually wanted him to stay…maybe even again.

“It’s perfect,” Mikey said, slowly forcing the one shoe he’d gotten on off of his foot quietly. “Should I pretend to go back to sleep?”

“No,” Steven said, smiling and then reaching down to stoke Mikey’s cheek. It was way too affectionate, and Mikey felt almost pathetic when he soaked up that attention. “This is okay. Would rather eat downstairs? I can set places.”

“That sounds fine,” Mikey said, standing up from the bed slowly and following Steven down the stairs.

“Sorry if it’s too much,” Steven said, sounding shy as he led Mikey into the kitchen. “You’re just a really nice catch—I don’t wanna let you go.” Mikey would’ve been put-off by the words, but the flirty, seductive look Steven gave him made the words less ominous. 

All he wanted, Mikey figured, was another round before it was time for him to go. Or…he recognized him and was going all-out because he’d snagged ‘a celebrity’ even though the band was really only famous—in Mikey’s opinion—to the scene. Steven didn’t really look rock ‘n’ roll, or punk…or gothic…or anything. He looked pop…like the pretty guy that would’ve been teased to shit if he were open in high school. 

He was definitely not in the scene…

If he somehow recognized Mikey as the least important member of My Chemical Romance, it would be a miracle.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Wow,” Ray said when Mikey stumbled into the apartment with a surprisingly familiar guitar in his hands. “I didn’t expect you back so soon—and with a guitar, too?”

“Don’t be an ass,” Mikey mumbled, looking over the guitar he’d bought and closing the door behind him. “I told you, it was an accident.”

“Mikey,” Ray tried to interject.

“I was in the apartment, I was getting my stuff, I heard a noise that scared me and drop the guitar. It’s not my fuckin’ fault it broke.”

“Mikey…”

“I can throw this one across the goddamned room if you want—buy another fucking one just like it. I didn’t fuckin’ realize that I can’t make goddamned mistakes once in a while—or is _Frank_ the only one allowed to screw up?”

“Mike…”

“Because, you know, I can fix my problem with money, and I have that—”

“Mikey! Calm down! It wasn’t meant as a personal attack,” Ray called out, staring at his friend nervously. “I was just teasing you—it’s alright. If you say it was an accident, then it was an accident. I didn’t mean anything by it—I was just saying that it’s not even time for rehearsal and you’re back with a new guitar.”

“It’s my fucking job,” Mikey mumbled. “I have to be at practice, and to show up I need a fuckin’ guitar.”

Ray let the conversation drop and watched Mikey cautiously as he set his new bass aside and wandered into the bathroom. 

“Gerard brought your clothes over last night.”

“I changed at…at Frank’s place before I left. I left your clothes there.”

“Yeah, Gerard brought them back, too.”

“Hey! My hair straightener!”

“Yeah,” Ray said, surprised at how quickly Mikey’s mood could change. “He brought that, too.”

“Is there anything he _didn’t_ get?”

“A lot of things, he said,” Ray mumbled. “Your case and your stand are in my room. I didn’t want them lying around the living room in case you came home and it was dark. I didn’t want you to trip.”

“I’m going out after practice,” Mikey said from the bathroom where he was shifting things around on the counter. “Don’t expect me back.”

Ray tried to hold it back, but his curiosity got the best of him.

“I know I shouldn’t ask,” he said as he crept towards the open bathroom door. “And I know it’s not my business.”

“It’s a guy,” Mikey said, not sounding bitter and almost sounding glad. “His name is Steven.”

“That’s great!” Ray said, trying not to sound too excited or too pleased. He didn’t want Mikey to turn to anger again, even though his anger was a lot better than his depression. 

“He made me fuckin’ breakfast—I ate _meat_ without getting death glares.”

“Was he a good cook?” Ray asked, watching Mikey straighten his hair even though it was flat enough on its own. 

“Kind of,” Mikey mumbled. “The omelet was kind of burnt, but I didn’t say anything. Frank never made me breakfast.”

“Well,” Ray said, feeling something inside of him twist painfully. “Frank’s kind of a dick.”

“You’re not allowed to say that,” Mikey said, turning away from his reflection in the mirror in order to fix Ray with a nervous stare. “Don’t pick sides in this. Be like Bob. Be…I don’t know. Pretend nothing happened. We’ve gotta get over this before we go on tour or people are going to figure it out.”

“You must really like this Steven guy,” Ray said. 

“Yeah well…” Ray knew immediately that he’d said the wrong thing and made Mikey angry. “Frank’s not the only one allowed to have somebody to go home with at night.” Ray looked down at the floor and let the conversation drop. “He doesn’t know who we are. You say ‘My Chem’ he says ‘oh, at what bars do you play?’” Mikey laughed softly and shook his head. “He’s so fuckin’ awesome.”

“I’m…I’m glad he makes you happy. You meet at the bar?”

“Yeah,” Mikey said, sounding detached. “We were both a little drunk, but he made me breakfast and he went with me to buy the guitar. I’m taking him to dinner tonight, but don’t tell my brother.”

“Why would I tell Gerard?”

“And don’t tell Frank…” 

“I wouldn’t tell Frank that,” Ray said quietly, realizing that something just suddenly didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the fact that Mikey wanted to keep this new relationship a secret that made him suspicious, it was the way he looked so sad as he stared at his reflection. “Mikey…are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mikey said. “I just wish I hadn’t dropped my guitar.”

( ) ( ) ( )

“We’re gonna be late—no, no! We’re—Frankie!—We’re gonna be late, _no!_ ” Gerard’s cries of protest quickly turned into a groan and laughter. Frank had shoved him down onto the couch and was attacking his neck, leaving marks—no doubt—and leaving them on purpose. “Frank, we really don’t have time!”

“But you’re so sexy—come on, you know you want to,” Frank murmured against Gerard’s throat. Gerard panted heavily and wrapped his legs around Frank’s waist. There was no denying it—he was just delaying the inevitable by putting up a fight. Frank wanted it, Frank was going to get it.

“Okay, but we have to be quick,” Gerard said, giggling with nervousness and excitement. Frank purred and moved from Gerard’s neck to his mouth, kissing him deeply while working at his belt. 

In a matter of minutes, Gerard’s pants and boxers were on the floor and Frank had shoved his down to his knees.

“You need a—” Gerard tried to speak, but Frank just kissed him instead. “No—you need to go get the—”

“Shh,” Frank said, pressing his fingers to Gerard’s lips. “It’s okay—we’re clean.” Frank tried pushing Gerard’s legs up further, but Gerard fought him.

“Well, get the lube at least—Frankie, come on!”

“Shh,” Frank said again, nipping Gerard’s ear softly and pushing on his thighs again. “Trust me,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you.” Gerard sighed and laid back on the couch, letting Frank have his way with his legs—pushing them into position. “You’ll be okay.”

Then Gerard watched as Frank sucked two fingers into his mouth and made a show of sucking them. Gerard no longer cared about condoms or lube or being late—all he could think of was those soft, soft lips and what he’d rather have them closing around. 

“Frankie?” Gerard moaned, wanting to ask if it was too late to change positions. But he lost his voice when Frank slowly pulled his fingers from his mouth—slick, wet…shining—and lowered them. “Fuck,” he moaned as Frank quickly worked both of them inside. He kept the pace quick—almost too quick—and then made a show of licking his palm, wetting it so their fuck wouldn’t be completely dry. 

Gerard watched him, captivated as the hand went lower and lower—watched jealously as Frank began stroking himself with his spit-soaked hand…smearing pre-cum that Gerard seriously wanted to taste. 

It would be something new. Another thing Mikey’d had and he hadn’t.

“Don’t think about him,” Frank said softly, just as he pulled his fingers away. Gerard closed his eyes and tried to keep his body relaxed as he felt Frank push firmly inside. It was rough, and it hurt, but he felt he could like it if Frank hit all the right places. 

It would feel good because it was Frank—because this was what he wanted.

Frank kept still for a brief moment and then began to move, thrusting gently at first and then becoming rough. Gerard moaned softly and fisted his hands in the cushions of the seat and back of the couch, almost screaming from the intensity as Frank wrapped his hand around his length and slowly began to pump it. 

“I love you, baby,” Frank said. His words distracting Gerard from the pain his body was in. He felt conflicted because it hurt, but it was what he wanted. And a little pain wasn’t bad, but this wasn’t what he was used to yet and he didn’t know if he could handle it.

And walking around the studio was going to be hard now…and if Mikey saw—

“Stop thinking about him,” Frank said quickly. It wasn’t harsh, it wasn’t angry—it was just what Frank knew he had to do to keep Gerard with him, keep him focused.

“Sorry—ow! Sorry.” Gerard closed his eyes tightly as another thrust sent a bolt of pain up his spine. “Frank?” He literally felt as if he were being fucked into the couch—hearing the springs scream and the wood creak. It hurt, but he didn’t want to focus on that…

Frank kissed him gently and slowed his thrusts, only somewhat dulling the pain. Gerard tried to concentrate on the feeling of Frank stroking him—squeezing him and quickly swirling his finger around the tip. Driving him over the edge far too fast.

“Fuck, Frank,” Gerard moaned, throwing his head back and keeping his eyes closed. As soon as he came, the pain became that much worse. He wanted to say the orgasm was so fantastic that it blotted out the burn and string of having Frank fucking him nearly dry, but it wasn’t. It still hurt. 

When Frank was finished, he kissed Gerard one last time before jumping off of the couch energetically. Gerard laid still for a moment, panting and feeling his body slowly closing itself back off—making everything burn worse. 

“We’re late,” Frank said, leaning down and grabbing up Gerard’s clothes. “Come on—you okay?”

Gerard laid still and slowly began closing his legs. Every movement hurt and…and he was embarrassed.

“Did I…hurt you? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Gerard said, reaching for his clothes slowly. “I haven’t done that in a while,” he added in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. He chanced a small glance at Frank’s face and saw worry.

It reassured him. Frank didn’t mean to hurt him. He just needed retrained. Maybe later…maybe later he’d teach Frankie that acting like that wasn’t okay.

( ) ( ) ( )

“I know what he did,” Mikey said, dropping down next to Gerard on the couch in their practice studio. 

“What who did?” Gerard asked, staring at the wall across from him. 

“What Frank did,” Mikey mumbled, leaning back on the seat and staring at the wall in the same, empty way. 

“He didn’t do anything,” Gerard said, breathing slowly and trying not to move. Frank had gone to the bathroom, preparing to leave now that practice was over, and Ray and Bob had already gone, leaving the two brothers alone.

“Oh…So it’s normal for you to stand completely still at the mic and then limp over to the couch for your breaks.”

“Mikey, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’ll get worse,” Mikey said, void of emotion.

“Mikey, nothing happened. What did he do to you?”

“We’re not talking about me. I’m talking about you.”

“He didn’t do anything, Mikey.”

“Fine,” Mikey said, slowly standing up from the couch and walking towards the door silently. Just as he left, Frank returned.

“I didn’t expect him to stick around,” Frank said quietly as he grabbed up his guitar in its case and pulled it onto his back. 

“He…wanted to talk to me,” Gerard said quietly, looking up at Frank from the couch.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Frank asked, going to him quickly and stroking his cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’d be okay if I didn’t have to go to practice right afterwards. I had your fucking cum running down my leg the whole time—now it’s in my shoe, asshole,” Gerard said, making sure his tone stayed playful as he got off of the couch.

“Don’t say that,” Frank said, laughing softly. “You’ll encourage me.”

“Really, though—lube. From here on out.”

“Aw,” Frank said. “You’re no fun.” Gerard sighed and leaned on Frank slightly as they walked to the door of their studio. He supported himself in the hall and took slow, excruciating steps down the hallway and out of the building. “I hurt you,” Frank said as soon as they got onto the sidewalk. “I fuckin’ hurt you—I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” Gerard said, forcing on a smile even though he was sure that he was bleeding more than a little bit. He followed Frank to his car and slowly got inside, cringing as he sat down.

“You’re hurt,” Frank said again as he placed his guitar in the back seat. “I hurt you,” he repeated as he got in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Gerard admitted. “Did you hurt Mikey?” He asked, knowing he was overstepping boundaries, but worried about what Mikey had said.

“I drug out our relationship—can we not talk about this _every_ day?”

“I don’t mean emotionally,” Gerard said. “I mean…”

“I don’t know—I don’t…Mikey never _talked,_ okay!? Mikey played dead every _fucking_ time—he didn’t say _anything,_ so if I did, I don’t even know.” Gerard sunk into himself and chewed on his lower lip. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.”

( ) ( ) ( )

“What the fuck did you say to him!?” Frank screamed. Mikey’d gone to Frank’s apartment to get the rest of his things after Steven asked to move dinner to a later hour. He didn’t think Frank would be there. “Don’t act like you don’t hear me!” Frank shouted, blocking the doorway and Mikey’s only way of escape. “What did you say to him, Mikey!?”

Mikey didn’t turn around, he didn’t want to see the look Frank was giving him. He felt trapped…and he felt scared.

He didn’t like that. 

“Answer me!” Frank screamed, his voice filling the apartment. If there was ever a time Mikey felt that Frank would resort to physical violence, it was now. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken to Gerard. He knew should’ve let Gerard learn on his own. 

He just wanted to warn his brother that things with Frank weren’t always peaceful. The sight of Gerard too sore to even walk made him angry. It wasn’t like he was just limping, he was _staggering._

“Mikey!” Frank shouted. “You answer me right now! _What_ did you say to him!?”

“I just came to get the rest of my stuff,” Mikey said. He stiffened when he heard Frank advance him and clenched both of his hands into fists.

“You’re not gonna let us be happy, are you?” Frank snapped, getting immediately in Mikey’s face. It took everything in Mikey’s body, mind, and soul not to punch him. “You’re that jealous?”

“You’re the one who hurt him. I just asked what happened.”

“Fuck off,” Frank hissed. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Well, that’s what happened,” Mikey said, pushing past Frank and grabbing everything he’d gathered together. There were some things he hadn’t packed yet, but he was going to have to leave them.

“Don’t fucking run away from me,” Frank spat, knocking one of the bags out of Mikey’s hands. Mikey backed away from him, instantly filling with self-loathing after letting himself be intimidated. 

“I just came to get my shit!” Mikey spat. “What the fuck is your problem!?”

“You! Telling Gerard I hurt you—”

“You did!” Mikey screamed. “I never told him that, but you _know_ you did! You _know_ you hurt me—I have the right to be worried about him!”

“I was trying to get you to leave!”

“Because you’re too much of a fucking pussy to say anything to my face!” 

“Fuck off!” Frank shouted. “I gave you so many hints!”

“Like what? Rape!?”

“Don’t even try to give me that bullshit!” Frank screamed. “I stopped! I _always_ stopped for you!”

“Unless you had too much to drink!”

“One time!” Frank shouted. “One time, Mikey! One goddmaned time! And I stopped then, too!”

“Like that makes any difference! You still stuck it in!”

“Get over it! It was two years ago! Is that what you told Gerard!?”

“I didn’t tell him anything!” Mikey screamed. “Fuck off! I just want to get my stuff!”

“You want to ruin what I have with Gerard! You want to fuck it up because you can’t have me!”

“I don’t even want you anymore!” Mikey growled. “I already have somebody! And he treats me a lot fucking better than you ever did!”

“Whatever!” Frank screamed. “You just had a one night stand at the fucking bar—don’t let it get to your fuckin’ head!”

“It wasn’t a one night stand!” Mikey screamed. 

“Yeah, right,” Frank seethed. “Who would want to stay with you when all you fuckin’ do is play dead?”

“Fuck you!” Mikey shouted, trying to ignore the ripping pain in his chest. He’d loved this man. How had they turned into this?

“You won’t ruin what Gerard and I have!”

“I wasn’t trying!” Mikey called, feeling attacked and feeling wounded. Frank didn’t even love him at all… He probably never even had. 

“Yes you were—how else could you get him to ask me if I hurt you!?”

“You did! Goddamnit!”

“Hardly!”

“Liar! You fucking liar!” Mikey threw his bags down onto the floor and prepared to lunge. He’d had enough of this shit.

Mikey didn’t really know how it happened, but he did know that Frank threw the first punch. Mikey’s pretty sure he shoved Frank first, but he kind of remembered Frank calling him names. 

The blow to his cheek left him disoriented for a moment, but he knew how to fight and he hit back. He didn’t know how many blows were exchanged before Ray burst in out of nowhere and got them apart.

“Wait for me outside!” Ray shouted. “Wait outside!” Mikey threw his arms up, mostly for show, and left the apartment. He was glad to have an excuse to get away from his ex. He wanted nothing more than to put as much space as possible between him and Frank.

He heard Frank yelling, but he wasn’t worried. Ray was like…twice Frank’s size. Ray wouldn’t get hurt, and honestly, Ray could put Frank in his place.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Can’t fuckin’ believe this,” Mikey groaned as he stared at his bruised up face in the mirror. He couldn’t remember if he’d gotten any good blows in on Frank’s face, but Frank had successfully wounded him. “What the hell is Steven going to think?”

“He thinks you play in bars, say it was a bar fight,” Ray said, looming in the doorway of the bathroom. 

“I don’t want him to think I’m some violent…abusive guy. I’m actually really mellow when I want to be.” Ray watched as Mikey fluffed his hair and caressed his darkly bruised cheek. “Frank just pissed me off.”

“What did he say?” Ray asked. “It had to have been bad, and I know you didn’t start it.”

“I told you not to pick sides in this,” Mikey mumbled, looking Ray in the eyes almost sadly. “But apparently I’m not allowed to talk to Gerard anymore…so whatever.” Ray lowered his eyes to the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh—I don’t know what to say to Steven about this.”

“Tell him the truth,” Ray said softly.

“Yeah—I got in a fistfight with my ex the night after we hooked up. He’s going to think I was cheating on Frank with him. It’s none of his business anyway—fuck, my face hurts.” Mikey groaned and pushed his way past Ray to leave the bathroom. “I bet he tells Gerard that I started it,” Mikey continued to mumble as he made his way to his suitcase. “That’s fine—that’s fuckin’ fine,” Mikey seethed, laughing slightly at the end. “At least I’m getting laid tonight. No way in hell he is. Ha!”

Ray raised his brow and watched Mikey go, feeling sorry for him and almost entertained by the way he tried to hide his pain with anger and energy. It was almost cute…even though Ray didn’t feel comfortable thinking about his bandmate that way.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard sat on the couch with his head in his hands and sighed heavily. 

“I can’t believe you guys got in a fight,” he mumbled for the third time. “Frank…”

“He’s fine!” Frank growled. “He’ll get over it.”

Gerard didn’t know if it was Frank or Mikey who’d started the argument—given their personalities and the positions that they were in, both were likely to snap—but he had no doubts in his mind that Frank made it physical.

“Frank…I don’t think we can do this,” Gerard mumbled. 

“What?” Frank said, sounding so hurt that Gerard regretted speaking. 

“Mikey…is my brother. And he’s obviously not okay with it, and I don’t think he ever will be. It’ll just hurt the band, Frank.”

“I’d quit the band for you!” Frank shouted. “I’ll fucking quit if that’s what you want—if that’s what it takes to stay with you. But Mikey’s already got a new boyfriend—he’ll be over it soon. Don’t do this.”

“Frank…I mean, I love you a lot—but, Mikey…”

“Gerard, he’s seeing someone. He’ll calm down and he’ll be happy and we won’t matter to him anymore. I don’t want to lose you, I just lost my temper a little. I didn’t mean to fight with him.”

“No, Frank,” Gerard said. “You went there looking to fight him.”

“Well…” Frank stared at him sadly. “Gerard, he told you I hurt him. That’s not true.”

Gerard moaned and buried his face in his palms. He loves Frank…he wants to be with Frank every minute that he’s not, but he hates feeling this way. He knows Mikey is miserable, he knows it’s his fault…he shouldn’t have forced them together all those years ago.

“I love you,” Frank said softly. “Give me another chance. I’ll…I’ll behave. I won’t even talk to Mikey if that’s what you want.”

“Fine, Frankie,” Gerard mumbled. “Let’s just promise that…if we don’t work out, we’ll still be friends? For the band at least?”

“Gerard, you realize that the bands already falling apart, don’t you?”

“Don’t tell me that,” Gerard moaned. “I don’t want to think about it—please. I don’t want to lose this. This band is my life…” Frank sat down beside him on the couch and Gerard instantly pressed his head onto his shoulder. “I can’t lose this—I don’t have anything else.”

“It’s okay, Gerard,” Frank said softly, nuzzling the top of Gerard’s head. “I’ll make this work, I promise. I won’t get upset at him anymore, I’ll even apologize. I’ll do anything. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.” Gerard sighed deeply and let Frank hold him tight. “I’ll stay out of Mikey’s way from now on. You won’t have any more trouble.”

“I love you, Frank,” Gerard sighed. 

“I love you, too—I promise.” Frank pressed a firm kiss on Gerard’s cheek, and kept working until Gerard surrendered his mouth. It was a little frightening when Frank climbed over top of him and made him lie back on the couch, but all Frank did was kiss and suck on Gerard’s lips and neck. Gerard was willing to give him that—he loved the affection. He’d been so alone for so long, watching everyone else being happy. 

Gerard crossed his arms behind Frank’s back and nipped Frank’s lower lip gently. When Frank pressed down against him, Gerard closed his legs around Frank’s waist. He was hurt, yes, but he still wanted Frank.

“Want to go to your room?” Frank asked quietly, breathing in Gerard’s ear. 

“Yeah,” Gerard whimpered. Frank kissed him gently and then sat up, breaking free of Gerard’s arms and his legs. “You’ll be gentle?”

“Yeah, baby,” Frank breathed. “I’ll go slow. It won’t hurt.”

Gerard got off of the couch stiffly and practically lost all of his enthusiasm and desire on his painful walk to his bedroom. Frank seemed to understand when Gerard fell forward onto the bed and laid still, trying to decide if he could go through with it or if he wanted to ask Frank to stop.

“You want me to blow you, baby? I think I owe you one,” Frank purred as he crawled onto the bed.

“Yeah,” Gerard moaned, rolling onto his back and opening his legs. “Yes—God, yes.”

Frank chuckled quietly and slowly started to work at Gerard’s belt and zipper, looking up every now and then to fix Gerard with a lustful gaze. As soon as Frank had him exposed, he wrapped his fingers around the base and stroked him slowly before lowering his head and sucking the tip into his mouth gently.

Gerard moaned and closed his eyes tightly, listening to the noises Frank made as he slowly pulled more and more into his mouth while fisting the base. It took a lot of self-control to keep from thrusting up into the heat of his mouth, but when his hips twitched, Frank pinned them down and sent Gerard a teasing look with his eyes. 

Frank hummed softly and Gerard fisted his hands in Frank’s thick hair. This was perfect—perfect retribution for the abuse he’d suffered on the couch earlier that morning. 

“I love you,” Gerard huffed, pulling Frank’s hair and making his lover moan. The vibrations as they mixed with the firm strokes of Frank’s tongue made stars erupt behind his eyes. “So fuckin’ good,” Gerard called, gasping as Frank ran the tip of his tongue over the slit, lapping at the precum. 

Frank had quickly set up a fast pace, broken occasionally for little tricks and extra attention. Gerard tossed his head to the side when Frank lowered his mouth from Gerard’s cock to his balls, sucking first one into his mouth and then abandoning it for the other. 

He tried not to pull Frank’s hair too hard, and fisted his free hand in the sheets to keep from digging his nails into Frank. 

Frank worked him until he was exhausted, leaving him panting and boneless after his orgasm—watching in awe through lidded eyes as Frank swallowed all that was in his mouth before licking his lips to clean off the rest. 

“I love you,” Frank said, voice raw and raspy. Gerard pulled him down for a kiss, not minding the taste of himself on Frank’s lips. He tried to get a leg hook around Frank in order to roll them over, but Frank fought him. “No, baby—it’s okay. It’s just for you,” he said before giving him another soft kiss. 

“I want to,” Gerard moaned. “It’s okay.”

“No,” Frank said, kissing his cheek and then nipping his throat softly. “I’m okay.” Gerard sighed softly, trying not to feel rejected. Frank cuddled against him and Gerard nuzzled him back, keeping his leg tightly wound around Frank’s hip. Frank made a soft, cooing sound and Gerard found himself smiling through his exhausted haze.

It felt right like this… With Frank here and no one else on his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

“What the…fuck.” Frank said the words no louder than a whisper—hardly any more than a breath. He couldn’t hold the words in, but he didn’t want anyone to hear them. He was going to keep his promise to Gerard. He wasn’t going to start any more fights.

But what was he supposed to say when Mikey broke the unspoken rule and brought his _boyfriend_ into the studio? Everyone was thinking the same thing. Everyone was staring at him slack-jawed and wide-eyed. 

They were having enough trouble as it was—they didn’t need this distraction. 

“Hey,” Mikey said. His tone was casual, but still void of emotion. Like he knew this was wrong and didn’t want to do it. “Guys, this is Steven. His apartment is being bug-bombed so he needed a place to hang out until it’s safe for him to go back.”

“So you…brought him to work?” Gerard asked. Frank was surprised that Gerard stood up to him. 

Frank watched as the blonde man at Mikey’s side suddenly started looking nervous. He whispered something in Mikey’s ear—asking if he should go—and Mikey shook his head.

“You bring your boyfriend to work,” Mikey said to his brother vacantly. Gerard’s face twisted with rage but he bit his lip against the words he no doubt wanted to scream. “It’s not like he’s gonna bootleg rehearsal or get in the way.”

Frank looked from Mikey to Ray who was scratching his head and fiddling with his amp, acting like nothing was going on. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ray said all of a sudden. “Maybe he can give us a fresh ear and help us work some of these bugs out of our set.”

“Steven doesn’t like this kind of music,” Mikey said. “He won’t be much help—but I like spending time with him and it gives me someone to play for.” 

“You’re sweet,” Steven whispered, rubbing Mikey’s shoulder and looking around the room nervously. “And your music’s not bad,” he added in a whisper. To Frank, it was obvious that the kid wasn’t star-struck. He didn’t know who he was standing with or what he was about to overhear.

“Okay,” Gerard said quietly. “Um…there’s water and stuff in the mini-fridge in the hall. And then…vending machines down the hall for snacks—”

“Yeah, I told him,” Mikey interrupted. “I’m probably going to leave early—in like a couple hours. I want to take him home.” Frank watched as Gerard grew steadily more and more annoyed, and Steven became more nervous. 

“Okay,” Gerard said. “Fine.”

“The couch is over here,” Mikey said, guiding his new lover over to the couch as if he would get lost. As soon as Steven sat down, Mikey kissed him—as if copying the gestures Frank and Gerard went through during breaks. Only Mikey wasn’t as sappy. The kiss was soft and brief, but the way the two made eye contact made Frank realize that letting Mikey go was probably the best thing for him. 

“Boo,” Bob called from behind his drum set. Steven froze, but Mikey just offered him a smile. He was so happy with Steven…they fit together, even if Mikey was blatantly using him as a tool to irritate and annoy his ex-lover and his brother. “This porno sucks—get some girls in here. Can’t one of you guys get a girl with some nice curves for me to look at or something? Is that too much to ask?—Ray? You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” Ray mumbled. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, God, not you too,” Bob muttered. 

Frank watched as Mikey and Steven kissed one last time before hooking up his guitar, passing Steven little glances every few seconds. It was sickeningly sweet.

But with Steven in the room, Mikey played _better._ He didn’t mess up a single chord—he hit every note, even on the newly changed pieces. He showed off for his boyfriend—even acting like he was on stage a little bit, just to give his new lover a show.

Frank was happy for him. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray couldn’t figure out what it was, but he was mad when Mikey left early with his new boyfriend. He was angry and it distracted him, making him mess up on guitar—pissing him off even more. 

He wasn’t supposed to bring his boyfriends to practice. They weren’t supposed to bring people who weren’t in the band to practice—not friends and especially not boyfriends. 

Although Ray was angry, he also knew he couldn’t act on it. He was Mikey’s only friend left in the band besides Bob. He was Mikey’s roommate and maybe even his confidant. Mikey came to him instead of going anywhere else. Ray couldn’t let his anger damage that trust. 

Especially not anger he couldn’t really explain. Because it wasn’t the fact he brought a guest to practice that had him mad…it was something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Or didn’t want to.

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Mikey said when he came home and spotted Ray sitting on the couch staring blankly at the television. 

“Yeah,” Ray said quietly. “You guys planning to stay together even when we’re on tour?” Ray kept his tone friendly and curious, hoping not to come off as angry and jealous as he was.

Jealous? He was _jealous?_

“I fuckin’ hope so,” Mikey said, sighing heavily and falling down beside Ray on the couch. “I really like him a lot—but the distance thing…I don’t know if he’s up for that or if he could even…I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust Steven—”

“But you’re afraid he might find someone else while you’re away?”

“Yeah,” Mikey said quietly. “Distance relationships suck. You have to be faithful to someone you never see, and hope they’re doing the same. In the meantime, you’ve got nothing to build your relationship on but phone calls. And if that call goes wrong? He could just stop answering me and I wouldn’t know if something happened to him or if he wants to break up.”

“It really upsets you, doesn’t it,” Ray said softly, responding to Mikey’s anxious and worried tone.

“I don’t want to be alone when I’m on tour,” Mikey mumbled. “It’s stressful. I need him to help me stay calm and give me something to look forward to aside from the next show.”

“You’ve got…us,” Ray said, wanting to say ‘me’ but feeling it would sound all wrong. 

“It’s not the same,” Mikey muttered. “He’s my boyfriend. I mean…he can say things you guys can’t,” Mikey added, laughing and flashing Ray a brief smile. 

“You’re just talking about getting laid,” Ray said, laughing and making himself sound friendly when he was really just irritated. 

“No!” Mikey called, laughing and shaking his head. “If all I wanted was sex, I’d stay with Frank—” Ray tried hard not to roll his eyes. Who did Mikey think he was trying to kid—acting like he had a say in whether or not he and Frank broke up or stayed together. “—Steven’s great, but I like him for other reasons, too.” 

“You don’t talk about him much,” Ray commented. “You just tell me that you’re going to his place or whatever—what am I supposed to think?” He chuckled so Mikey wouldn’t realize that he was being attacked. 

“What do you want to know about him?” Mikey asked, face looking bright. Like he was…excited to tell all of his lover’s business. “I just didn’t want to bother you. I don’t want to piss off Ray Toro.”

Ray was pissed off…but he just couldn’t stay mad at Mikey. There was nothing to really be angry about. Mikey’s heart had been broken and he’d found someone to take care of him. Ray felt that he should be thanking Steven for taking such good care of ‘Michael,’ and not making him look like he was about to cry every time they were together. At least this guy was treating him a lot better than Frank had.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Mikey must be really serious about this guy,” Gerard mumbled as he nuzzled Frank’s chest. They were lying together in bed, not quite having made it to sex even though Frank had been pushing for it. Gerard was content just to cuddle.

“Yeah, he likes him well enough to break the rules and bring him to practice to show him off,” Frank mumbled, trying not to sound bitter.

“I didn’t mind so much. He seems nice.”

“He calls Mikey ‘Michael,’” Frank commented. Gerard laughed and shrugged.

“So does our mom,” he mumbled, snuggling even more.

“I kinda thought…you know, with Mikey seeing someone else, you’d want to—I don’t know—mess around a little more since you don’t have to worry.” Frank jostled Gerard slightly, but all he got in response—instead of the eagerness he’d been anticipating—was a heavy sigh and to have Gerard roll off of him.

“I’m not always in the mood, you know? I like to just relax once and awhile.” Gerard got up off the bed, ignoring Frank who fumbled after him, and started for his living room. “I’m still _bleeding_ from last night.”

“Want me to lick it and make it better?” Frank attempted, hugging Gerard from behind and nuzzling his shoulder.

“No,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Want me to suck you? I won’t make you do anything back.”

“No,” Gerard mumbled again, this time with even less conviction.

“I’ll go real slow—and be real gentle,” he breathes this into Gerard’s ear, knowing Gerard will give him what he wants if he keeps pushing. “You’ll feel really good.”

“Okay,” Gerard says, hardly more than a whisper as he retreats back to their bed. He lets Frank lay him down, and he lets Frank kiss him and suck on his neck—strip him, and pull him into his mouth.

He isn’t as gentle as he promised, but he makes sure not to hurt his boyfriend. He needs Gerard, he loves Gerard—he doesn’t want to lose him. Frank knows that if he messes things up with Gerard, he’ll lose the band. He may have been able to escape danger when he broke up with Mikey, but he can’t hurt Gerard and run free. 

So after Gerard comes and Frank swallows, Frank gives up his idea of taking Gerard hostage and making love to him. Instead, he lays his head on Gerard’s chest and listens to his pounding heart and smiles when his labored breaths ruffle his sweaty hair. 

“I love you, Gerard,” he says quietly. Gerard makes a content noise—the sound of a smile—and wraps his arms around Frank’s shoulders. 

“I love you, too. I’m happy we can have this. You mean so much to me.” Frank smiles and nuzzles Gerard’s sweat-slicked chest. “And with Mikey being _so happy_ …I don’t even think I have to feel guilty anymore.” Frank just hums, not know what to say to that. Mikey was happy, so he guessed Gerard was right. There was nothing to feel guilty over because Mikey was living a lot better now than he could have ever with Frank…

( ) ( ) ( )

Tour. Week three. Mikey was crying in the bunkroom when he’d been perfectly fine before Ray left to get him coffee. Ray set the tray of coffees down on the table and hurried to the back of the bus, seriously worried because Mikey didn’t cry—and if he did, he didn’t make _noise_ when he cried. 

“Mikey?” Ray called, noting that the sounds didn’t stop even though Mikey must’ve heard him. “Mikey, what’s wrong?” Mikey had the curtain drawn over his bunk and Ray thought twice before ripping it open like he wanted to. “What happened?”

“Fuckin’…Steven fuckin’—I don’t even _know!_ ” Mikey shouted, sounding angry and hurt. Ray grimaced and dared to pull the curtain back a bit, finding it difficult to communicate with a black sheet of fabric. 

Mikey lay with his face pressed to the wall, his blankets pulled all around him even though it was hot as hell.

“Did he say something to you? What happened?” Ray asked, keeping his voice low but not letting it take on the soothing, ‘tell me everything’ tone that pushed people away. 

“He fuckin’…He asked when we’d be back in town and I told him maybe next week for a little while and…somehow he got mad. I don’t even know…” Mikey’s voice broke, but Ray’s presence seemed to force him to stop crying.

“So you guys fought?” Ray asked gently.

“Yeah,” Mikey hissed. “I mean _I_ can’t control when I see him. I _told_ him it’d be hard and he said he could do, but he can’t!” Mikey paused to sniff and fight back a sob. “He can’t—he said he’s done. He said he’s not gonna see me anymore.”

“See you…like, he thinks you won’t be around anymore?”

“No,” Mikey spat. “Like, when I’m around, he doesn’t want to see me. We broke up.” Ray felt his heart constrict, sad that Mikey was in pain but at the same time he had to fight back a grin because if Steven left Mikey, then Ray could have a chance to take him. “And he keeps trying to call me, but I don’t want to talk to him. I didn’t need this right now!” Mikey cried. “I’m stressed out as it is—I didn’t _need_ this. Couldn’t he just fuck someone else and _not_ tell me? It’s not my fault that I’m not home!” With that Mikey fell back into sobs and Ray reached out and slowly rubbed his shoulder. There really wasn’t much for him to say, nothing would make Mikey happy at that moment.

“Oh, hey—coffee,” came Gerard’s voice from the front of the bus. “Alright.” 

“Awesome,” Frank said before cursing. “Why do I always get the one with the lose lid!? I _always_ get burnt!” Gerard giggled at him.

“Come here—I’ll kiss it and make it better,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Bob boomed. “This is the kitchen—not your bedroom.”

“Oh, we could go to our bedroom,” Frank sneered.

Ray watched as Mikey pulled his blankets further over himself and scoff at the voices down the hall. 

“I think Mikey was back there on the phone when we left,” Gerard said. “Probably shouldn’t go back there,” he added, laughing softly. 

Ray could hear his bandmate’s sobs, even through the blankets and sheets. He didn’t like seeing Mikey sad, even if seeing him happy with someone else made him unexplainably angry. 

Mikey’s phone began ringing again, somewhere beneath the blankets. Mikey made a sad noise and pulled it out, surprised Ray a little when he answered it. Was he supposed to stay and listen to the conversation?—keep rubbing Mikey’s hidden shoulder through the layers of sheets—or was he supposed to leave him alone?

“Why do think I’m sad?” Mikey spat into the phone, voice tearful and heavy. “That’s not true!—I never said I _didn’t_ want to see you—I just can’t ‘cause we’re on tour and we go away all the time. I’ll be home next week—I promise…No, I really will! I really will—We play in New York and we’re supposed to have a hotel, but I’ll come home and see you.”

Ray pulled his hand away from Mikey’s shoulder and moved slowly and quietly away, letting the conversation drift into privacy. He really didn’t want to hear Mikey begging to get back together with an asshole who didn’t deserve him.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey tried not to feel hurt when Steven didn’t use the tickets he’d sent him so he could come to their show in New York. He _tried_ not to, but he still felt bad. He couldn’t understand how their relationship had turned so ugly so fast. They’d been so close before the tour.

Steven promised he’d be strong in Mikey’s absence, why had it changed? Mikey called him every day…almost. He sent him letters when he wanted to be cheesy…

And all Steven lasted was three weeks before the distance tore them apart? Not even a month?

Mikey didn’t really want to go back to Jersey to see someone who he knew didn’t love him anymore. 

“Are you really gonna go down there?” Gerard asked, looking at Mikey from his seat on the couch in the lounge of the venue. “Just to see that guy for a couple hours?”

Mikey didn’t say anything, just stared at the floor. 

“He doesn’t…he’s not worth it. You don’t need him,” Gerard repeated, sighing. Mikey knew Gerard was afraid to talk to him about Steven. Gerard still felt guilty for hooking up with Frank—something Mikey didn’t even give a shit about anymore. 

The more time he spent away from Frank, the more he realized that Frank was just an asshole who did the same things to his brother that he’d done to him. How could he say he’d hurt Mikey so many times because he was trying to push him away when he hurt Gerard just as bad and claimed to love him?

Frank _raped_ him on tour. Frank gave him no other options but to take it wherever they were—with whatever they had. Mikey almost told Gerard about the time Frank really _had_ taken him against his will, but decided against it.

Gerard could find out on his own…and it looked like he was starting to.

“Frank’s…kind of getting mean with me,” Gerard muttered, changing the subject when he realized Mikey didn’t want to talk about himself or his love life. 

“He does that on tour,” Mikey muttered. Only if Gerard asked would he say the entire truth.

“He kind of…got mad at me yesterday.” Mikey looked at him tiredly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Everyone fights when we’re on tour. Don’t you remember the last one? You quit talking to me for a week because you thought I took your pen.”

“I was also really drunk,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Did he hit you?” Mikey asked quietly.

“No,” Gerard practically whispered. “Maybe I’m thinking too much.” Again, Mikey almost opened up to him, but caught himself just in time. Gerard looked seriously troubled, and Mikey knew _exactly_ what was wrong. He just didn’t want to say it. “Mikey…last year on tour, when you were with him…”

“You know, you’re not supposed ask people for advice about how to date their ex’s.” Gerard sighed and sank into himself, looking like he might cry. Again, Mikey caught himself trying to tell his horror stories from their last tour. He didn’t like seeing Gerard sad. 

“Okay,” Gerard whispered, hardly making sound when he talked. 

“I’m not going to go see Steven. Do you want to room with me at the hotel?” Gerard nodded too quickly and Mikey instantly felt anger swell in gut. “I know what he did,” Mikey said.

“He scares me sometimes,” Gerard mumbled. “And I’m tired…It’s not that I don’t love him. I’m just really tired.” When Gerard quickly wiped a tear off his cheek, Mikey squirmed in his seat. 

Frank could hurt him. Frank could torture him, but he could _not_ hurt Gerard. He was supposed to _love_ Gerard, not exact old habits on him.

“Did he rape you?” Mikey asked bluntly. He knew Gerard wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t need words to know. He needed body language, and that was something Gerard had never mastered the art of hiding.

“No,” Gerard said quietly. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Okay. It was like ‘you’ll do it in this alley way with me and you’ll like it—whether you like it or not.’”

“No,” Gerard mumbled with even less conviction. “He just…I know he’s stressed and just need to relax, and I’m usually…accommodating.”

“Accommodating?” Mikey said cynically. “Seriously? You told him no and he talked you into it, and because you argued he made it hurt. And now, you still don’t want to, but you know better than to argue because you don’t want tore apart.”

Gerard sniffed and another tear fell. He didn’t wipe it away. 

“I’m just tired,” Gerard whispered. “I still love him—I’m just tired. And he’ll get mad if I don’t sleep in his room tonight—and I’m scared.” Gerard sobbed and buried his face in hands. Mikey watched him with a raised brow and tried not to feel pleased underneath his anger. “Is he going to hurt me?”

“You’ll be fine,” Mikey said quietly. When Mikey had tried to hide from him, Frank had raped him…or at least tried to. He really doubted he take it that far with Gerard. “You need to talk to him when he’s sober,” Mikey added. “He’ll listen if _you_ tell him no. Threaten to leave him once or twice, he’ll straighten up for you.”

Gerard stared at him sadly and Mikey realized that Gerard was starting to understand.

( ) ( ) ( )

“I thought you were rooming with Gerard,” Ray said when he entered the hotel room. He checked the number on the door again, as if he somehow gotten into the wrong room with his key.

“He changed his mind,” Mikey mumbled.

“I thought you were going to see Steven,” Ray said softly.

“I changed my mind,” Mikey said. 

“Oh. Cool,” Ray said, taking his suitcase over to the side of the bed and setting it down by their dresser. 

“I’m…sleeping early tonight,” Mikey said.

“Yeah—me, too,” Ray said, nodding and almost instantly yawning. 

“Our room is right next theirs, so…you’re gonna want to fall asleep fast or wait until they’re done fucking,” Mikey said bitterly. “Or they’ll wake you up—I’m used to sleeping with noise, so…whatever works for you.”

“I got the notion that they were fighting,” Ray said.

“They are—or, Gerard’s afraid of Frank and that’s the gist of it.”

“Afraid of him?” Ray asked, looking up from his suitcase. Mikey watched him and shrugged. “What did Frank do? Is Gerard okay?” Mikey shrugged.

“Who knows. Gerard’s…pathetic,” Mikey said, knowing that he was starting to feel jealous again because Gerard had a lover and he did not. It didn’t matter if Frank was abusive or if Frank loved him to death—Mikey still wanted him back. He wanted _someone._

The walls of the hotel weren’t exactly thin, but Gerard was loud when he screamed—so when his voice rang out from the next room in pain, Mikey couldn’t have missed it.

“I don’t think Frank took their discussion very well,” Mikey mumbled.

“What discussion?” Ray asked. Mikey didn’t answer. “What discussion?”

( ) ( ) ( )

“I want this to stop,” Gerard said firmly, refusing to let this go on if Frank was just going to hurt him.

“What?” Frank said, acting like he didn’t understand. “You said you wanted to!”

“No,” Gerard spat. “Not now—get off me.” Frank growled, but listened and continued to grumble as he took of the condom and deliberately threw it onto the bed in a gesture of anger. 

“Fine—I’ll go fuck my fuckin’ hand.”

“No!” Gerard spat. “I’m sick of this!”

“I’m gonna fuck something if I can’t have you,” Frank shouted. “Would you rather I go find someone else?”

“Frank, I’m tired of this! If I say no you hurt me the next time—if I say yes you’re really nice to me. What are you trying to do? Train me to not say no _ever?_ ”

“Sometimes I like it rough,” Frank argued. 

“What happened to you? You used to be really nice to me—now you’re mean. You’re just _mean._ ”

“Don’t start that,” Frank said, sighing heavily like Gerard was an inconvenience. 

“Do you even love me?” Gerard asked. “Or am I just your new toy since Mikey left?”

“Gerard, I _love_ you! I love you like crazy—I’ve always loved you. How do I not show it?”

“When I say ‘ow’ and you keep going,” Gerard said, staring Frank in the face and hoping to see his expression change.

“I’ll…stop then,” Frank mumbled. “I don’t want you to leave. And I know it’s wrong, but I get mad when you say no.”

“Why?” Gerard asked, watching him with careful eyes. “It’s not personal—it’s not like I’m saying I don’t want you. I’m just not in the mood for one reason or another.”

“Usually, when someone says no, it’s because they don’t want you. Because they’ve got somebody else on the side.”

“No, Frank,” Gerard said, sighing and praying that this wasn’t a last ditch effort of Frank’s to get in his pants. “Why do you think that? I’ve never cheated on anyone—I’d never cheat on you. You’re all I want.”

“But you don’t want me. You _never_ want me when I ask.”

“Because I’m hurt from the last time you asked,” Gerard said, not raising his voice but staying calm. “If you didn’t hurt me, I’d say yes more. Bathrooms are kinky and I like alleyways…I like being with you, but you’re starting to scare me.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.” Gerard stared at him, feeling like he’d done something wrong when Frank just looked sadder and sadder by the second.

“So…let’s just…cuddle…and sleep,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Okay,” Frank muttered, grabbing the discarded condom off of the bed sheets and throwing it onto the floor instead. Gerard clipped off the lamp on the bedside table and snuggled next to his lover in the clean sheets. Rather than feeling relieved, he felt awful. Like he should’ve gone through with the pain so Frank wouldn’t be upset.

Mikey, he felt, must have lived in Hell with Frank.


	6. Chapter 6

Gerard lay under Frank silently. The light was off so Frank couldn’t see him crying, Frank could only hear his labored breaths and assume that they were from pleasure and not agony. At least…Gerard didn’t think Frank was trying to make it hurt so bad. 

Though they’d discussed situations just like this weeks ago, Frank seemed not to have remembered. He was causing pain with every thrust and Gerard was terrified to tell him to stop. He didn’t want Frank to get angry—he wanted them to be a happy couple. He wanted them to stay good friends like they had been before they’d started dating.

“You’re being…so quiet…baby,” Frank panted. Gerard bit back a sob and resisted the urge to sniff. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Gerard moaned out an incoherent answer and continued to weep silently. He just stayed still, he just let Frank have what he wanted. “So quiet, baby,” Frank said again, sounding concerned…faking concern. “What’s the matter?”

Gerard made a quiet noise and shifted on the narrow mattress of his bunk. He wanted to die. He wanted to die because he loved Frank so much, and he’d been so wrong about him. Frank couldn’t possibly love him and treat him this way—Frank _hated_ him. That was why Frank kept doing this. He hated him, and he wanted him to know it.

So when Frank came inside, Gerard started sobbing—sobbing hard, brokenly and loud.

“What?” Frank said urgently, pulling out and flipping on the light quickly. “What?—what?” Gerard rolled onto his side, his legs still spread apart as Frank knelt between them, and buried his face in his hands. “Did I hurt you?” Frank asked. Gerard screamed into his hands, too exhausted to even try to form words to express his grief. How could Frank lie to him in such a sweet voice? How could Frank pretend like he didn’t mean to cause pain?

Gerard just laid with his face in his hands and screamed and cried until his voice was raw and Frank had given up and left him alone in the dark. He screamed until his voice broke and no more sound could come out—cried until Mikey came and comforted him. 

( ) ( ) ( )

They’d been home for a week—one left before returning to the tour—and Gerard wasn’t sleeping with Frank. He was staying in his own home, sleeping alone in his own bed and only going to Frank’s when he was in the mood to be fucked.

He was laying on his couch—feeling alone, exhausted, and completely relaxed—when a sharp knock came on the door.

“Just a sec,” he called as he slowly got up from the couch, feeling his sore muscles protest. He made his way over to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Mikey… Quickly, he undid the deadbolt and let his brother inside. “What’s going on?” He asked.

Mikey looked distraught, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Gerard…I did something bad,” Mikey said, looking away from his brother and staring at the wall with his wide, bloodshot eyes.

“What?” Gerard asked in a gentle voice, gesturing Mikey inside and closing the door. “What happened—talk to me.”

“Gerard,” Mikey whimpers, still staring at the wall. Suddenly, Gerard is afraid, because he and Frank haven’t been getting along and he knows how much Mikey misses his ex-lover. “Ray and I…” 

Somehow, after realizing his own relationship hadn’t been tarnished, he couldn’t even feel alarmed.

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray sat on the couch with his head in his hands, staring at the floor with wide, vacant eyes. Mikey had ran out…he remembered less of the night than Ray did, and he was the one who ran out.

The night before, Ray remembered, had had a lot of booze and a lot of talking involved. They’d been sitting on the couch together, talking about Gerard and how badly Frank had hurt him the week before…about how Gerard had alerted people across the bus park with his shrieks of misery. 

“Did Frank do that to you?” Ray remembered asking after finishing what he thought was his third beer.

“Yeah,” Mikey answered. His voice low and shaky. “I think…I think he’s hurting Gerard worse, though.”

“Really?” Ray asked, opening a beer and handing it to Mikey who had taken it hungrily. 

“Yeah. I could at least walk the next day. Gerard…wow—he can’t even, he can’t even roll out of bed, you know?”

“What a way to show someone you love them,” Ray muttered, washing down the beer with a mixed drink he’d forgotten on the coffee table. He knew not to drink liquor after drinking beer, but he didn’t really care. There wouldn’t be consequences he thought—there couldn’t be consequences when he was just sitting at home.

“Yeah,” Mikey breathed. “Are you sure you wanna drink that?” Mikey asked. “You’ve already had like, four beers.”

“I’ve had three,” Ray remembered arguing before swallowing about half of the drink. 

“No—I think you might even have had five…Ray, that’s too much…”

There were giant chunks missing from his memory after that. Bits and pieces of Mikey looking at him sadly remained—but the words were missing. What was said? Who made the first move?

How had Mikey ended up in him lap, kissing him and working his hands underneath his shirt? Ray remembered moving so that Mikey lay under him on the couch—and remembered the way Mikey’s legs had wrapped themselves around his waist.

“Should we be doing this?” Mikey’s voice echoed. Ray could tell by the look in Mikey’s eyes that he was wasted. His pupils were blown and out of focus.

Ray didn’t remember what he’d said, but he’d gotten Mikey’s clothes off and he’d woken the next morning with Mikey lying underneath him, blacked out and still undressed.

“Mikey?” Ray had said upon waking. “Mikey.” He felt strange—he felt guilty, gross, and wrong. Mikey didn’t need this. Mikey was still upset over Steven—he didn’t need to have more complications. 

Ray had been terrified, because he knew he had more love for Mikey than necessary, knew that he felt more than what was appropriate for his fellow guitar player. He didn’t want to upset Mikey, and he hadn’t meant for these feelings to get away from his control. His biggest fear was that Mikey was going to end up hurt by his hands. Mikey trusted him…he hadn’t meant to destroy that trust.

He didn’t know whether to get dressed and then wake Mikey, or just wake him as they were. In the end he didn’t have a choice, Mikey woke up with an upset moan and shook his head against the couch.

“What?” Mikey said, his eyes blinking against the bright lights of the room. “Why do I…why am…Ugh.” Mikey stared up at Ray for a moment and then immediately went frigid. “Shit,” he said, sitting up and scrabbling to cover himself. Ray did the polite thing and turned away, turned his back to Mikey who immediately grabbed for his clothes on the floor and vanished into the bathroom down the hall.

He forgot to grab his glasses so Ray stooped down to pick them up.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey said as soon as he was back in the room. “I’m so sorry—I just…I gotta go. I mean—I’ll be back I just…I’m sorry. Ray, I’m really sorry—I just…I—”

“It’s fine,” Ray said, ending Mikey’s torture. He handed Mikey his glasses at arm’s length and once Mikey had them in his grasp he was gone, leaving Ray to his misery.

( ) ( ) ( )

“What are you…going to do?” Gerard asked quietly. “Are you guys…do you love him, or…?”

“I…I don’t know,” Mikey said helplessly. “I don’t want to hurt him, but…Gerard, I can’t _love_ anyone. I don’t trust anyone right now.”

“Are you mad?” Gerard asked. “At Ray?”

“Not _mad,_ ” Mikey mumbled. “I mean, we were both drunk—but, if it happened it _means_ something. Ray doesn’t just sleep with people…that’s what _I_ do.”

“No you don’t,” Gerard argued gently. “You’ve been with like…three people in your entire life.”

“ _Five,_ ” Mikey muttered. “Including Ray…Oh, God.” Mikey buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply. “How did this _happen?_ I’m gonna fuck up this band—I’m gonna ruin everything.”

“You’re not going to ruin anything,” Gerard said reassuringly, rubbing his brother’s shoulder gently. “Do you think…you might _like_ Ray? Like, do you want to be with him…?”

“Shit,” Mikey hissed, shifting on the couch. “I don’t know—I mean, Ray’s…I guess I never thought about it before—like, not seriously or anything.”

“Are you gonna give it a shot…?”

“Gerard,” Mikey snapped. “I really doubt Ray’s interested in me at all—he’s probably throwing up at the memory…”

“I don’t think so,” Gerard whispered, looking at floor and sighing. “But…if you want, you can stay here…”

“What, and listen to you and Frank fuck every night? I don’t think so.” Gerard lowered his head and stared at the floor. 

“Frank doesn’t come here anymore,” Gerard mumbled. 

“Yeah, it sounds like him to make you go to him,” Mikey muttered.

“No,” Gerard said. “I don’t want him here, like…I don’t want to have to buy new sheets every week because I’ve got blood in mine.”

“He’ll make you buy his sheets soon,” Mikey said, staring ahead of him at the wall. “He’ll say it’s your fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about what he was doing to you?” Gerard asked, shaking his head and sighing.

“The same reason you’re still with him,” Mikey said. “I was in love with him—it didn’t matter what he did.”

“It doesn’t stop, does it?” Gerard asked in a meek voice. “Frank and the…the way he is.”

“No,” Mikey mumbled. “It gets worse…like cancer.”

“I can’t leave him—he needs me.”

“He needs to hurt you—that’s what he needs,” Mikey grumbled. “He’s not satisfied if you’re able to walk the next day.”

“Why?” Gerard asked. “Why is he like that?”

“I’m not the right person to ask,” Mikey mumbled. “But I hate seeing you like this. You don’t _need_ to let him get that violent. Just try to…train it out of him, I guess.”

“Ray would be good to you, Mikey.”

“Yeah, well… I probably wouldn’t be good to Ray,” Mikey muttered. 

“So…what if you go back to his apartment and he’s like ‘hey, Mikey—I love you’?”

“Then I shit myself and run out of the apartment—join the military and get deployed right away.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, laughing slightly. “What if you go home and he says ‘Mikey, that was a mistake—let’s pretend it didn’t happen’?”

“Then…then I lay on his couch and cry for a little while after he’s gone to sleep.”

“Mikey,” Gerard said sadly. “You can stay here! I don’t want you to be sad…”

“I have to face him—it’s bad enough that I ran out like a fuckin’ school girl.”

“He’d be good to you, Mikey,” Gerard repeated. Mikey sighed, feeling the pressure already and it made him feel sick.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey found Ray on the couch and stared at him in silence for a few good minutes. He couldn’t find words, but after a while he realized that there was nothing he could say. Nothing would fix what happened, so he just sat slowly down at Ray’s side and allowed his head to drop onto Ray’s shoulder.

If the last night had meant nothing, it would break his heart when Ray pulled away…but if he didn’t, if he stayed still, Mikey felt he would be happy. To be wanted again…wanted by someone who actually _knew_ him and understood the demands of their work…

Ray didn’t move an _inch._

“I’m sorry I ran away,” Mikey mumbled, nuzzling Ray’s shoulder and wondering with every motion what the repercussions would be. What if it really had been a drunken mistake and he was now guilt-tripping Ray into staying with him or trying to make it work? And what if they did form a couple and then broke up? What would that do to the band? He was going to ruin everything and he just fuckin’ knew it…

“Are you…feeling better at least?” Ray asked in a quiet, meek voice that Mikey wasn’t used to. 

“I don’t know,” Mikey mumbled, sitting up and letting his head loll back against the back of the couch. “What…happened last night, exactly?”

“Um…Well,” Ray said, leaning forward and clasping his hands between his knees. “We got drunk, and…”

“No,” Mikey interrupted. “I know what _happened_ , but what… _what_ happened?”

“I…Mikey, I _like_ you. Like…like how Gerard likes Frank and how…you like Steven.”

“I don’t like Steven,” Mikey muttered. “I…I like you,” Mikey found himself whispering. He felt like a third grader on the playground, confessing his love through a folded piece of notebook paper.

Do you like me? Check yes or no. That was how he felt.

“You don’t have to,” Ray said. “I mean—if last night was nothing, you can say it. You’re not going to…hurt my feelings or anything.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Mikey mumbled. “I mean…I don’t remember much, but…I don’t know. I guess, it’s just that I don’t…regret it, I just regret how it happened. Like, I wish I’d been sober or that I remembered if I were good or not.” Ray actually laughed, and it didn’t sound too forced.

“You’ve got…nice legs,” Ray said, laughing still and scratching the back of his head. Mikey hadn’t actually heard that compliment before—not even from Frank or Steven—and it made him blush.

It felt strange—it just felt so strange, because this was his best friend, complimenting his body. It wasn’t right…no matter how happy Mikey wanted to be, no matter how much he wanted to just have someone take him in their arms and hold him tight, it would just end badly.

And he was going to ruin the band…

He was going to ruin the band if started a relationship with Ray or refused one, now. He’d already made the fatal mistake…it would be better if he just walked himself out into the ocean and blew his brains out.

Mikey didn’t particularly like the thought of suicide—he’d watched it nearly claim his brother’s life multiple times—but it seemed like the only sensible thing that he could do to keep from causing any more harm than he already had.

“Mikey…I don’t want to make you do anything uncomfortable, and had I not been _completely_ wasted last night, I would’ve kept this…this _feeling_ a secret because I know it’s upsetting for you—but I really, really think that…that you and I could have something…if you want to have something.”

“I’m fucked up, Ray,” Mikey muttered. “I ruin everything—you don’t want to get mixed up with me.”

“Okay,” Ray said, looking down at the floor. Mikey bit into his lip and sighed nervously. Had he said something wrong? He must have… He upset Ray, and that wasn’t what he wanted…but he and Ray _couldn’t_ be together. They just flat out could _not_ date. If he slept with Frank and then slept with Ray, he’d be two members short of fucking the entire band. What was next after that? The stage crew and the bus driver? Or maybe Frank and Gerard would invite him over for a fucking threesome or some horrible shit like that…

It made him feel cheap. And what was worse than that, it made him feel wanted…

“Ray, I…I want to, but I don’t—”

“You don’t want to hurt the band,” Ray mumbled. “I know. I just feel like…if Frank and Gerard can be happy, then why can’t you? Why can’t we?”

There were other questions that Mikey was more interested in having answers to—questions like how long Ray had been having these feeling and where had they come from and why—but he was satisfied to just let his mind settle on Ray’s simple concerns.

Let Ray be the one to worry for once. Let Ray think about it, because he and Ray had less of a chance of destroying the band than Gerard and Frank did. Ray was kind, soft-spoken, and gentle—not at all like Frank.

The more Mikey thought about it, the more it seemed to fit. Mikey himself was quiet and reserved…Ray was a little more outgoing, but never too obnoxious. It was a better fit than he and Frank had been.

“I think we could work,” Mikey said suddenly. “Ray—we could…we could work. You’ll—you’ll be my Ray, and I’ll be your Mikey and it’ll work out fine. And—and Frank will be fuckin’ jealous because you and I get along, right? And we can show Bob that we can be in the band and we _can_ have a relationship without screwing everything up. We could be together,” Mikey insisted, feeling his heart start pounding. He felt like he was close to something, and felt like it was trying to escape him. He was scared. He didn’t want to be alone again. He wanted someone—anyone. He didn’t want to be on his own again. “You want me, right? And I want you so…so we can be together…”

“Mikey,” Ray said, sounding slightly concerned. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah,” Mikey said, catching himself and locking down that rushing, anxious feeling. “I’m perfect—I’m happy. I’m-I’m…” Mikey lost his words and lost his weak sense of control. Recklessly, impulsively—without letting himself think at all—Mikey latched onto Ray and forced their lips together.

He resisted when Ray tried to push him back—he had to. He was losing his fucking cool. He felt helpless and reckless and desperate. He’d been tossed to the side twice in a row and he’d be damned if he would let Ray do the same. He was going to be perfect this time, no matter who he was being perfect for. 

He wasn’t going to be pushed away—he wasn’t going to be forgotten about.

“Mikey,” Ray tried to say. Mikey just shushed him, kissing him on his large lips again and again and crawling into his lap. “Mikey,” Ray groaned. Mikey made not a sound as he ran his hands over Ray’s chest and lowered his face to kiss his neck. 

He knew this was wrong—he knew he couldn’t do this. He knew this wasn’t like himself, but he was afraid of what was going to happen when he stopped, if he stopped.

“Mikey, stop!” Ray said, grabbing Mikey’s hands and holding them still. “Stop,” he said firmly. Mikey finally stilled, breathing heavily and staring past Ray at the wall. 

He felt cheap…undesirable. Wasted and used. He felt like he had no control of his life and it made him sick. He wanted to get up and run out of the apartment, run away and return to sleeping in all of the shitty hotel rooms, alone. And never answer his phone again. Quit the band and live alone…moving from hotel to hotel…dying in the street.

“What’s wrong?” Ray asked. Mikey didn’t answer, just sat still in his bandmate’s lap. He was going to throw up… he was sure he was just going to throw up from all of the swirling and whirling feelings and emotions. “Mikey?”

“Gonna…throw up,” Mikey said, sliding off of Ray’s lap and going quickly into the bathroom. When he couldn’t even gag, he forced his fingers down his throat, just to make something happen, just to do something to make the feeling going away…pretending he could purge the hurt from his body by some physical action besides curling up on the bathroom floor crying.

But that was where he ended up anyway, sobbing on the bathroom floor.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey was back to being quiet Frank noticed when the tour resumed. He guessed it had something to do with breaking things off with Steven, but Mikey wasn’t apt to share and Gerard said he knew nothing.

Ray was almost less accommodating than Gerard, but Frank had a feeling that Ray knew more than he was letting on.

Frank didn’t really find himself bothered when Mikey was quiet and sulky the entire day before their concert, but he couldn’t help but be annoyed when Mikey played like he didn’t give a shit at the show. 

“You fuckin’ sucked out there!” He screamed at Mikey as soon as they got backstage. Everyone had tried to coax Mikey out of his shell during the intermission and it pissed Frank off that Mikey refused to break or even _pretend_ like he was having a good time.

“Back off, Frank,” Ray said firmly. Frank froze. Something about the aggressive tone…the defensive stance Ray took behind Mikey…

Something was up.

“Mikey…are you okay?” Ray asked softly. Frank watched as Ray delicately rubbed Mikey’s rigid shoulder. Mikey didn’t answer. “Come on…it’s okay.”

“Quit being a drama queen,” Frank muttered. Immediately, he felt a hard shove on his shoulder. “What?” He snapped, turning around and gazing up at Bob. “What?” He asked again, watching as Ray and Mikey walked away together.

“Dude…quit being a dick,” Bob said. 

“He’s being a dick!” Frank shouted. “Those kids paid for a fucking show and Mikey acts like it’s a fuckin’ chore—like he didn’t _want_ this!”

“Frank,” Gerard said, coming over to Frank slowly, towel around his neck and water bottle in his hand. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll come around. He’s…he’s kinda sick,” he said softly. 

“With what?” Frank asked quietly. Gerard just shook his head and watched as Ray escorted Mikey over to the couch where he coaxed him to sit down and then went to get him a bottle of water. There was something…off about it.

But Frank was sure that wasn’t true—he was just imagining things. He just imagined that gentle stoke across Mikey’s cheek…He was just imaging that…

Holy. Shit.

They kissed. 

They kissed…

What the hell was happening?

( ) ( ) ( )

“I don’t believe it,” Frank mumbled, crawling into Gerard’s bunk and laying down on top of him. Gerard sighed softly and wrapped his arms around Frank’s shoulders. “I don’t like it,” he said, kissing the corner of Gerard’s mouth gently.

He’d learned to be gentle after being ignored for almost two weeks.

“I’m…worried about it,” Gerard said quietly, nuzzling Frank’s cheek and sighing again. 

“Yeah…Mikey doesn’t need to be in a relationship right now. He needs to be on his own for a while.” Gerard hissed sharply and Frank couldn’t figure out why. “What?”

“Mikey deserves someone who’s going to take care of him and treat him right. I’m worried that Ray will give up on him before he goes back to normal once the shock’s worn off,” Gerard grumbled.

“Oh, like I didn’t take care of him?” Frank growled. He caught himself as soon as the words were out and literally bit his tongue.

“You _raped_ my brother,” Gerard said, shifting and pushing Frank away. “I _hardly_ consider that taking care of him.”

“I thought we were past this,” Frank mumbled, rolling out of Gerard’s bunk and walking away. “I can’t believe you two are fucking,” Frank said, sitting right between the couple on the couch just outside of the bunk room. Mikey went frigid and Ray just growled.

“Get out of here, Frank,” Ray said, his voice aggressive and firm. It was so unfamiliar. “God, why do you have to be such an _asshole?_ ” Ray stood up and Mikey instantly followed him, like the two were attached by strings.

“Ray?” Mikey said quietly. It was the frail voice Frank had only heard once before… It filled him with guilt, because that was the voice Mikey had used after Frank really had raped him…held him down despite the pleas and protests thinking that once he was inside, Mikey would change his mind and calm down. It was then that Frank realized just how upset Mikey really was.

“Yeah, Mikey?” Ray said, looking at Mikey who hovered by the passage to the bunkroom.

“I’m gonna go to sleep,” Mikey whispered. He glanced at Frank who looked at him guiltily and then lowered his gaze to the floor. It was his fault that Mikey was like this…it was his fault that one of his best friends was in so much despair he couldn’t even think straight or fake happiness.

“Okay,” Ray said quietly. “Yeah, you need some rest.” Mikey looked like he wanted to say something, but just vanished into the bunkroom instead. He passed a few brief words with Gerard before he fell silent. “I’ve seen the scars you gave him,” Ray spat. “You’re an asshole.”

Frank didn’t have an answer to that, so he just stayed quiet and stared at the floor. He needed to work on being nicer…he needed to fix these things before they got even worse.

“Mikey…really likes it when you hug him from behind,” Frank mumbled. “It’s like…his favorite thing in the world, and it calms him down really fast when he gets angry or upset.”

“I know,” Ray said, passing Frank an unfriendly look. “You don’t need to give me tips. I can figure him out on my own.” Ray got up quickly and went into the bunkroom. He heard him talk to Mikey for a little while and then everything was quiet.

( ) ( ) ( )

Mikey lay underneath Ray stiffly—not moving except for to breathe. They were on a couch, alone, just before the mad rush to start the show would begin. There was time to fool around if they wanted to, but Mikey didn’t really want to.

And he didn’t know if Ray wanted to or not. 

Mikey didn’t feel like they were dating, he felt like they were in an arranged marriage. Like they were both there because they somehow had to be. Mikey wasn’t unhappy…and Ray didn’t seem unhappy…but it was all unnatural somehow. 

“I’m tired,” Mikey said, hardly even a whisper. Ray had to read his lips to understand him.

“You need more coffee,” Ray said gently, sitting up. Mikey just stayed on the couch. “Mikey…are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine,” Mikey said, staring at the ceiling and knowing he wasn’t doing a good job of being convincing. He just had no energy left. 

“It’s a hotel night tonight,” Ray said. Mikey was so unused to hearing those words said casually—without sexual connotations at all. “Would you want to order room service and just hang out? Talk this out?”

“Yeah,” Mikey said, thinking that talking things out sounded pretty good. They needed to talk, and Mikey felt that if he and Ray stood any chance as a couple, he was going to have to communicate. 

That was hard after being with Frank. Frank made it his personal mission to make sure that Mikey kept his mouth shut.

“It’s time to get makeup done,” Mikey whispered, laying still even as Ray climbed off of him. 

“Are you going to be okay to play tonight?” Ray asked.

“Yeah,” Mikey answered, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll just…be really still.”

“How’s that…going to help you stay awake?” Ray asked, offering Mikey a hand to help him sit up.

“Then they won’t look at me,” Mikey mumbled.

“Who?” Ray asked. “The fans?”

“My exes…” Mikey whispered, knowing he made no sense, knowing he was rambling, but unable to stop. He felt broken. Like literally broken—not heartbroken—just broken-down, damaged…incapable of making sense, even if he tried. Worthless, defeated, and hopeless.

“Mikey…I think you need to take a break for a while.”

“If I take another break, I won’t be coming back,” Mikey said softly. Ray didn’t answer, just stared at him with eyes full of concern. “I’m tired, Ray. I feel so lost…”

“You’ll be fine,” Ray said. “I’m here for you, and Gerard is here for you…And if you ever need to talk, you know I’ll listen.”

“I know,” Mikey said, flashing Ray a weak smile. “I’ll be okay. I’m…I’m excited for the hotel tonight,” he said with a weak nod.

“You don’t…have to be,” Ray said softly. “Like I said, we can just hang out and talk for a bit. I want to be your friend, you know…before I’m your boyfriend. “

“I know,” Mikey said. “I appreciate that, I really do.” Ray opened his arms, offering Mikey a hug which he slowly—but not hesitantly—accepted. He pressed a brief, gentle kiss on Ray’s lips and then pulled back just in time before someone came to call them for makeup.


	7. Chapter 7

Mikey was sitting in Ray’s lap on the edge of the hotel bed, his legs wound around Ray’s waist and his arms around his shoulders. They’d been kissing, but Mikey had stopped it just as it started getting deeper. 

He felt bad, but he was still confused…not that he knew what he had the right to be confused about. He’d slept with Ray. He’d agreed to date Ray. He needed to start acting like they were a couple…but that was hard when messing up the relationship would mess up their entire band.

“Mikey…it’s okay if you don’t want to do this,” Ray said. “I won’t make you. You don’t need to feel like you have to.”

“I want to,” Mikey muttered. “I’ll be fine it’s just…this is different. I’m scared, Ray.”

It was harder to admit than he thought, but it felt good to let the words go—to voice them.

“I don’t want to ruin anything, and if I mess this up, there’s a good chance I could ruin _everything._ ”

“We won’t let it get that bad,” Ray said quietly, wrappings his arms loosely around Mikey’s waist. “If things start to fall apart, we’ll let it go. Okay? We won’t fight, we’ll let it go.”

“I can’t…agree to that,” Mikey said. “I won’t want to just let it go. I don’t like to let things go.”

“Well—I just mean that if we start to fight more often than we get along, we’ll call it quits and decide that…that we aren’t a good match.”

“I want to be a good match,” Mikey mumbled. “You’re my best friend,” he said, leaning his head down onto Ray’s shoulder. “I want us to work out…”

Ray pressed a kiss onto Mikey’s cheek and held him closer. He whispered something that Mikey didn’t catch and started rubbing his spine gently. Mikey took the initiative to set himself up and scoot forward, thrusting his hips against Ray’s.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ray said quietly. Mikey just hummed indifferently and pressed their lips together. Ray tried to say something, but Mikey didn’t let him. He just demanded that their kiss be deeper and pushed forward until Ray laid back on the bed. “What do you want?” Ray asked gently, massaging Mikey’s hipbones and looking up at him with dark eyes. 

Mikey just shrugged. 

“Mikey,” Ray said again. “You _don’t_ have to do this.” Again, Mikey just shrugged and leaned down to kiss Ray’s neck. Ray sighed and ran his hands up and down Mikey’s back before taking the dive and sliding one hand down the back of his tight jeans. Mikey pressed back against the touch and sighed. Ray would be gentle…like Steven. He could tell just by the touches.

“Love you,” Mikey said, pressing a wet kiss down onto Ray’s mouth and sucking on his lower lip. 

“Love you, too,” Ray panted, sliding his other hand under Mikey’s shirt and stroking his side. Mikey sighed and let his hips press down against Ray’s. 

Just as Ray started slowly thrusting up against him, there came a sound from the other side of the wall. A thud…a moan.

Mikey stiffened for a moment, certain it was his brother and Frank…feeling sicker by the second—but then the voice called out again. It was a woman—growling as she flopped down on her bed.

“Finally!” The woman’s muffled voice called out. “A five hour flight only to…” She prattled on but her voice grew fainter.

Ray started laughing, and when he did, Mikey did as well. 

“I thought that was your brother,” Ray laughed, pulling his hands out from under Mikey’s clothes and just wrapping him up in a hug.

“Me too,” Mikey mumbled, nuzzling Ray’s neck. “I was really fuckin’ scared for a second.”

Ray laughed and held Mikey tighter, rolling them over so Mikey was under him—trapped but safe with their fingers entwined…

“I guess we’ll be quiet,” he said. “Don’t want to make her mad, right?”

“Right,” Mikey said, smiling softly and absorbing all of the good signals Ray was sending. He was warm…friendly, loving…affectionate. “I love you,” he whispered softly.

“I love you, too,” Ray responded, kissing Mikey on the side of his mouth and then rubbing their noses together. Mikey just laughed and pulled him closer. “You wanna take a shower?”

“Not really,” Mikey complained, chuckling before nuzzling Ray’s chin. “But I will if you do.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” Ray mumbled, slowly sitting up and pulling Mikey up with him. Mikey moaned unhappily and laid on Ray’s chest like a child—listening to his heartbeat and feeling warm. 

“I really like this,” Mikey said—teaching himself to communicate. Ray wrapped his arms around him again and held him tight. “I want to keep this…”

“Me too,” Ray whispered into Mikey’s ear. Mikey closed his eyes slowly and just listened to his boyfriend’s pulse. It felt as though it were beating in time with his own.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard was lying in bed nervously. He’d gotten out of the shower and Frank had immediately gotten in it after him. There was a bottle of lube sitting on their nightstand, telling Gerard what to expect as soon as Frank got out, and a condom was laying on the bed sheets. It was like he didn’t get a say at all. 

Not that he would say no if he did… He couldn’t refuse Frank. Frank would leave him for someone who would always say yes.

So Gerard just laid in the bed and waited for his lover, fiddling with the condom package and staring at it with empty eyes. 

To say he was broken was an understatement… He was damaged beyond repair it felt. Ruined…only capable of being loved by Frank.

The shower turned off and Gerard slowly closed his eyes. He wanted to pretend like he’d fallen asleep, but he knew Frank would just wake him up if he had. 

Frank emerged from the bathroom followed by a cloud of steam. He was handsome…almost too handsome for Gerard to look at. A beautiful man with the temper of Satan.

“Hey,” Frank said, a kind greeting that Gerard felt was merely an unnecessary formality. Gerard just rolled onto his back and pulled his knees up as Frank sat down beside him on the bed, naked save for the towel wound around his waist. “You okay?”

“Tired,” Gerard sighed.

“Do you just want to go to bed?” Frank asked. Gerard turned his face away and felt tears well in his eyes. It wasn’t a real offer, and even if it was he’d feel terrible if he refused Frank. “Baby?”

“No,” Gerard answered. “I’ll be okay. You’ll just have to do most of the work,” he added, forcing humor to bubble up in his voice. Frank chuckled…and then jumped him.

Gerard did his part—kissing and moaning even though it was all fake—and let Frank press in painfully without letting out a sound.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank thrust softly after the initial push inside, and watched with a sort of horror as Gerard just closed his eyes and turned his face away. Gerard’s teeth were buried in his lower lip, biting it in his pain…

No matter what Frank did or how he touched him, Gerard didn’t make a sound and didn’t open his eyes. 

“Gee?” Frank whispered softly. Gerard made the quietest sound and turned his head slightly. Frank thrust gently and stroked Gerard’s length with his free hand, but didn’t even get a moan. “Gee?”

“Yeah,” Gerard breathed before moaning faintly. 

“Gerard?” Frank pressed, wanting more than that. He pumped Gerard faster and earned a quiet gasp.

“Frankie,” Gerard whispered, arching his back on the bed when Frank brushed against his prostate. “Feels good,” he choked out in a quiet voice barely audible over the creaking of the mattress. “I love you,” Gerard moaned after a few more gentle thrusts. 

“I need you,” Frank whispered. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I’m not leaving,” Gerard muttered, arching his back as Frank started pumping him a little faster. “Frankie, I won’t leave,” he gasped. “So good—so good to me.”

But that wasn’t true…Frank wasn’t good to him. He was bad. He was horrible…so horrible that Mikey couldn’t even smile anymore. So horrible that Gerard was starting to be like Mikey was. Frank caused permanent damage…Frank hurt him. Frank made his life hell…

Frank made it so Gerard couldn’t possibly love him anymore.

Frank had made Gerard want to leave him

Gerard was going to leave.

Frank started to sob. He kept his thrusting even so Gerard might not notice, but he started crying and the feeling was so overwhelming that he thought he might pass out. He couldn’t breathe when he felt this bad.

“Frankie?” Gerard asked. Frank turned his face away so Gerard couldn’t see him, not even in the dark, and inhaled shakily. He barely got in a sniff before he started to choke. “Frank?” Gerard said, more urgently, trying to sit up but unable to with a rapist between his legs.

Frank pulled out quickly and locked himself away in the bathroom, head in his hands as he sank to the floor.

“Frank!” Gerard cried. Frank heard the mattress squeak as Gerard got up and hurried to the bathroom door. “What did I do?” Gerard whimpered. “What happened? What’s wrong? Frank?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, knowing Gerard couldn’t hear his voice when it was so frail and choked.

“Frank?” Gerard called, shaking the doorknob slightly. “I’m scared—what happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Frank cried again, curling up on the floor. He was going to stay here all night because he didn’t deserve to be at Gerard’s side.

“Frank!” Gerard called. “Come on! You’re scaring me! Open the door!”

“I can’t!” Frank screamed, covering his face and shaking his head.

“Why?” Gerard asked. “Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I hurt you,” Frank cried. “I hurt you!”

“Not this time,” Gerard pleaded through the plywood. “Not this time, Frankie—please open the door. Please? I wanna see you. Are you okay?” He sounded so desperate and Frank just didn’t understand. Why wasn’t Gerard running away from him? Why wasn’t he asking to share a room with Bob?...or simply running away down the street… “Frankie,” Gerard said, voice choked with a sob as he knocked one last, feeble time.

“Okay,” Frank sniffed, getting up slowly because if hiding from Gerard made him cry, facing him could do no worse. “Okay…” So he opened the door and let his lover grab onto him.

“Don’t leave me,” Gerard breathed. “I’ll be better, okay? So don’t…don’t do this.”

Leave him? Gerard thought Frank wanted to leave him?

“I’m not leaving,” Frank said with a loud sniff. “Are you leaving?” It was a stupid question, but it was all he really wanted to know. Was Gerard going to leave? If he was smart he would…but maybe he was stupid…stupid and in love.

“No,” Gerard whimpered, sobbing hard and nuzzling Frank’s shoulder forcefully. “No—never. Please, please come back to bed…okay?”

“Okay,” Frank sniffed, taking a second to strip off the condom and throw it away before latching back onto Gerard who guided him to the bed.

“What’s the matter?” Gerard asked. “Can you tell me? Please?”

“I hurt you,” Frank said, “I meant to—and I did it.”

“Meant to?” Gerard asked, sounding sad. 

“Yeah,” Frank sniffed, getting his sobs under control and cuddling up to his lover on the bed.

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank had fallen asleep in Gerard’s arms…after explaining that he meant to cause all of the pain that he did. He talked about how it felt good to have that power—to know that he could give pleasure or cause pain, and how he wanted Gerard to know that he had that power…

And admitted that he knew it was wrong, and that he knew he was sick for doing that to his lover… He said he was insecure, and that being on tour scared him and that was why his violent behavior had escalated to the point that it had.

“I just want to control you,” Frank had sobbed at one point. He repeated it over and over again like some strange sort of mantra… “I don’t know why!” He wept. “I don’t know why, but I _need_ to!” Gerard urged him to admit why he felt so out of control, but he refused…or really didn’t know. “I love you—and I want to make sure you stay with me,” Frank had whimpered. 

Gerard promised he would stay, feeling more and more weighed down by the second. There was something wrong with Frank…and he realized it now more than ever. This behavior wasn’t normal…

Not even for abuse.

If Gerard thought deeply about it, it was practically sexual abuse. Frank hurt him—he hurt him on purpose… But, other than for sex, Frank never hit him or caused him pain. Frank didn’t yell at him or call him names… Frank loved him and showed it, except for when they had sex. 

Then it was different, but all other times they were perfect.

It was strange…and Frank had given no reason or cause. He didn’t say if he’d been abused or if he’d learned the behavior through something else. Frank just apologized and begged for forgiveness.

Gerard felt bad for him.

Knowing not what else to do, Gerard just held Frank in his arms and closed his eyes tightly. Maybe Frank would change, and maybe he wouldn’t…he’d just have to wait until morning and find out.

( ) ( ) ( )

They’d finished another show and—once again—Frank barely even passed Gerard a glance as they walked from backstage onto their bus. No autographs tonight…no press attacks and no photos with fans. They had someplace they needed to be, someplace more important than the fans…

Gerard didn’t like any of it… Even if he got scared by the massive crowds that wanted to crush him with love and obsession, he still felt that they deserved a little attention…

He didn’t like ignoring the crowds, and he didn’t like being ignored by Frank.

“Frankie?” Gerard whispered as he followed his lover in the bunkroom. Mikey and Ray didn’t follow him. They’d started giving them space when they realized that there was something wrong in the relationship. Bob acted like none of them even existed. 

“What?” Frank asked softly, standing by the bunks and sighing. 

“Frank, we can’t go on like this,” Gerard mumbled. “If…if you want to break up with me, can you just fuckin’ do it? Because I can’t take this anymore.” And as soon as he spoke the words he’d started crying. “I can’t do it—I love you and you don’t want me around anymore, and it _kills_ me!” 

“Gerard,” Frank said, turning around slowly. “I don’t want to leave you, I just don’t want to hurt you. I keep my distance so I don’t…so I don’t hurt you.” Frank opened his arms and Gerard fell into them, leaning his head down on Frank’s shoulder and wiping away his tears on Frank’s already damp shirt. 

“I liked it better when you hurt me,” Gerard muttered brokenly, knowing it was true. “At least then I got your attention… Now it’s like… Now it’s like you don’t even want me and I don’t know what to do.” He couldn’t help the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. It was the stress, it was the sadness—it was everything manifesting itself into sharp bolts of pain in his heart.

“I just don’t know how to fix it, Gerard,” Frank whispered. “I just don’t know…when I look at you I just…I just _want_ you.”

“So why fight it?” Gerard asked, pulling away slightly. “I love you—I want to be with you.”

“I’d just hurt you, Gerard,” Frank said, crawling into his bunk without passing Gerard a glance. “There’d be no point.” Gerard tried to follow him into the bunk, but Frank made it impossible, even going so far as to push him back when he tried.

“Frank,” Gerard whimpered. 

“Just…just not right now, Gerard.” 

Gerard watched as Frank drew the curtain to his bunk closed and sighed sadly, trying not to sob. He felt pathetic and he knew he looked pathetic, but he didn’t need to act like it. 

It was his own fault anyway…

Had he really thought he could have a real relationship with the man responsible for tearing Mikey’s heart to pieces? What a foolish thing to think… What a stupid idea…

He didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve love.

“Okay, Frankie,” Gerard whispered, hardly audible to his own ears. He thought to leave the bunk room, but realized that there was no one he really wanted to see so he just crawled into his own bunk instead. He drew the curtain and let himself silently sob. Frank could maybe hear him, but he didn’t care.

What did it matter if Frank knew he was sad? He couldn’t keep the feelings locked up anymore—they’d kill him. Feelings like this made him want to go back to drinking—made him wonder if cocaine would be a better friend to him than this. And if the combinations of the drugs and the alcohol killed him, what would it matter? Who would care? Frank?

Doubtful.

Mikey?

Maybe…

Gerard had rather hoped he would never have to feel this way again…but that had obviously been too much to hope for. Life never let him off that easily.

( ) ( ) ( )

“Is it bad that I…that I feel bad for him?” Mikey asked, leaning his head onto Ray’s shoulder. 

“No,” Ray answered firmly. “No—not at all.” Ray wrapped a careful arm around Mikey’s shoulders and nuzzled the top of his head. 

“Not Gerard,” Mikey whispered. “Frank…”

“Oh,” Ray said, stiffening but not loosening his grip around his boyfriend. “Why?” Mikey shrugged and pulled himself free of Ray’s grip.

“Frank’s…Frank’s stupid. He doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time. Now that he figured it out, it’s obvious he feels bad.”

“He still hasn’t apologized to you...” Ray muttered. Mikey sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I know…He just doesn’t know how to.”

“And what if he figures out how and just apologizes to Gerard?” Ray asked, trying not to sound too bitter. It pissed him off that Mikey could be so forgiving…but he guessed that was also one of the things he loved about him. If it weren’t for Mikey’s forgiving nature, the band would have crumbled into pieces by now… 

“Apologizing to Gerard is the same as apologizing to me. He’s sorry for what he did…and that’s all I want to hear—even if it’s not said to me.” 

“I guess…I guess I can understand that, yeah,” Ray said, not understanding completely but knowing that he never could. He could never understand Mikey—or Gerard for that matter—and that mystery kept him wanting more all the time.


	8. Chapter 8

Mikey and Gerard were both lying on the floor in Ray’s hotel room. Ray had gone out to pick up some coffee and Frank was in his room. Gerard would go back to be with Frank later, but as for this moment…he was hiding on the floor beside Mikey’s temporary bed.

Though they lay side-by-side, they were facing opposite directions, their heads at each other’s feet. They stared at the ceiling, but hardly spoke more than three words to each other. Gerard was hiding, and he didn’t need to explain to Mikey why.

“It…it was like a rape,” Gerard whispered.

“I know,” Mikey said. His tone was affirmative, almost… He was sorry to say it was almost cheerful. He _had_ to act cheerful or else he’d get mad… “I heard.”

“I know,” Gerard mumbled. He had his scarf wrapped around his neck and his sunglasses on to hide his eyes. Mikey knew that the glasses were meant to hide tears and the scarf was meant to hide bite marks. “He…He stopped when I begged him, but…”

“He won’t next time,” Mikey said with a sigh. 

“I’m lucky he wasn’t that drunk,” Gerard muttered. 

“Yeah.”

“How’s Ray?” Gerard asked in a quiet tone.

“He’s great,” Mikey said, shrugging and tilting his head to observe the blank ceiling at a different angle. “He’s…you were right, he’s really good to me. I got really mad the other day, you know? After the show—after Frank threw that fucking water bottle at me—and I _screamed_ Ray’s _face_ off. Like, I would not stop yelling…and he just took it. He didn’t get mad. He’s so great…”

“I’m glad,” Gerard mumbled.

“Tell Frank to quit it,” Mikey said, hating the broken sound of Gerard’s voice. Frank was sucking the life out of him… “I mean it. Just look him in the face, get _pissed_ and tell him to stop or he’s out of the band.”

“He knows I won’t make him leave the band.”

“So maybe I will,” Mikey mumbled. “Ray doesn’t like him, and I doubt Bob’s going to argue…”

“I love Frank,” Gerard whispered.

“He’s not going to stop the next time if you don’t make him listen to you.” Mikey wanted to ask Gerard _why_ he thought he was in love with Frank. Sure, he was cute and he could be funny and sweet when he wanted, but under it all he was just angry. There was nothing to love about Frank because underneath all of his masks he was just a violent, terrifying monster.

“You couldn’t even make him listen, and you’re stronger than me.”

“I never tried to make him stop,” Mikey mumbled. “I thought he was _happy._ I just thought it was part of being with him. You get…You get caught up in it, and you don’t see things clearly.”

“I know,” Gerard said softly. “Obviously, I know—I stole my brother’s boyfriend and I pay for it almost every night.”

“Stop acting like it’s karma. You didn’t know. I would’ve warned you, but I didn’t think he’d do it if he was with someone he actually liked.” Mikey would never admit it, but he was almost relieved that he wasn’t the only one Frank turned on. To think that Frank hated him after he spent years of his life doting on his every want and need was debilitating. To know he gave the same treatment to the man he left him for made the pain a little less traumatic.

A little.

“He said he does it because I’m quiet when we have sex,” Gerard mumbled.

“Yeah, that pisses him off.”

“But if I say it hurts…”

“He stops, gets mad, and makes it worse the next time,” Mikey said. To him, it was text book. It was so far in the past that he no longer had strong feelings about it. Mikey was safe now. He was with Ray, and Ray was nothing like Frank.

“I’m gonna have to leave him,” Gerard said, finally letting a sob tear at his voice. “I’m _afraid_ of him!”

“I mean, if that’s what you have to do,” Mikey mumbled. “Why don’t you try hurting him for a change?”

“Are you kidding?” Gerard asked. “He _never_ lets me…you know.”

“I know,” Mikey said, looking over at Gerard’s shoes. “Make him let you—make him. Show him what it feels like to get raped in a bunk the size of a coffin with your bandmates in the next room.”

“I think…I think that would make him kill me,” Gerard mumbled. “Not literally, but…”

“I’m saying you should go for it. Maybe you’ll figure out why he’s such a control freak since he never bothered to tell me either.”

“Mikey…why didn’t you tell me?” Gerard asked. 

“Because I was pissed at you, why do you think?”

“No,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “Before. When you were together. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve…”

“There was nothing you could’ve done. I didn’t want everyone to know a little midget boy had me whipped.”

Gerard scoffed and rolled over onto his side. 

“I just don’t understand…”

“He gets weird when he’s on tour,” Mikey said, not sure why he was still trying to defend Frank’s behaviors when it should’ve pissed him off. Maybe it was because he was so far removed from that once familiar pain that he no longer had the ability to empathize with Gerard who had stepped into Frank’s web on his own. 

Maybe now that he was free of Frank’s abuse, he was taking the opportunity to laugh at the man unfortunate enough to take his place. Like Karma. It was Gerard’s own fault.

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard crept into his hotel room silently. The light was on, but that gave him no reassurance. 

“Baby?” Gerard asked, trembling as he closed the door behind him. The bedroom appeared to be empty, but the bathroom door was shut and Gerard could hear water rushing in the sink. 

Gerard slowly walked over to the bed and sat down, shaking and looking around the comforter and the nightstands looking for a condom wrapper or a bottle of lube that would go unused if Frank decided to attack him. 

The sink was turned off and Gerard grabbed a pillow off of the bed. He clutched it to his chest and used it to muffle his ragged breaths. When he heard the bathroom door open, he buried his face—sunglasses and all—into the top of the pillow. 

“Hey—when did you get back?” Frank asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed as Gerard. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Gerard whispered, trying not to scream when Frank put a hand on his shoulder.

Why didn’t his boyfriend love him? Why did he do this to him?

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, his voice dripping with fake concern.

“I can’t…do this anymore,” Gerard said. He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and fingered his cell phone. If Frank tried to grab him, he’d call Mikey—or he’d call 911. It really didn’t matter what number he’d dial as long as it made Frank back away.

“Were you talking to Mikey again?” Frank snapped. “He’s _fine_ with us being together, okay? He’s got Ray now—it’s over. You need to stop feeling guilty.”

“I’m not talking about Mikey and you _know_ that!” Gerard shouted, pulling his face free of the pillow and tearing off his sunglasses. It was embarrassing to show Frank how much pain he was in, but if Frank really loved him at all, he would see what he’d caused and try to fix it. If he _loved him at all._

“Gerard, I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you—you started _screaming._ That was the only way I knew it was hurting you!”

“You’re a liar!” Gerard cried. “Don’t sit there and lie to me!”

Frank started glaring at him and Gerard couldn’t take it. Sure, he was hurt, but he was also mad— _mad_ mad. Almost possessed by the rage inside him. Frank had broken Mikey’s heart and was trying to do the same with him.

“Hey, I stopped!” Frank shouted.

“Because I _begged_ you! Why are you doing this to me!? You say you love me then you tear me apart! I ask you all the time to not be so mean, but you’re just worse!”

“I apologized before!”

“But you don’t mean it!” Gerard stood up from the bed to escape it when Frank’s hands reached for him. Of course, Frank meant to calm him and then rip into him once Gerard returned to being pliant. “You’re fucking crazy!” Gerard shouted. “If you don’t stop trying to _kill me_ every time you touch me, I’m out of this relationship and you’re…you’re out of this band. Do you understand?”

Finally, Gerard managed to get a spark of hurt cross Frank’s face.

“Gerard, you’re—”

“I’m serious!” Gerard shouted, scowling darkly and trying to make up his mind of what to do before his cover was blown. He couldn’t very well shout his head off and then remain in the room. He was going to have to storm off so Frank could have time to reflect in silence, but he didn’t know where to go… “And I’m not overreacting either! So you can just forget trying to make me feel bad about this! I’ve told you _over_ and _over_ that you’re hurting me, that it’s _your fault_ I don’t like sleeping with you anymore, and you still blame me! You still act like it’s my fault—oh you give me that bullshit excuse: ‘You knew what you were getting into. This is part of dating me.’ Fuck you, Frank! Fuck you!” 

Gerard grabbed his sunglasses up off of the nightstand and pushed them back onto his face. 

“I’m going out, and when I get back you’re going to apologize to me, and you’re going to _mean it._ Then I’m going to bed and you’re not going to _fucking_ touch me. And if I come back and you’re in here with someone else, you’re out of the fucking band and I don’t care how unfair it is! I’m not a toy and neither was Mikey!”

Gerard stormed out of the hotel room and slammed the door before Frank could stammer out a coherent reply. Once he was halfway down the hall, Gerard’s mask of anger broke and he was back to being frightened, anxious and nauseous. If Frank didn’t change his ways by the time Gerard staggered back to the hotel room, Gerard would really have messed it up this time… 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank sat on the hotel bed staring at the door Gerard had slammed. Half of the hotel had to have heard the wood of the door bang against the frame, and there was actually a crack in the drywall at the right corner of the frame from the force of the blow.

For a moment, he was completely frozen, shocked at how angry Gerard had gotten. He knew he’d been hurting him, but he’d never thought he would push him that far. Gerard was threatening to throw him out of the band, and he _meant_ it. 

There was no doubt Mikey was behind it all because Gerard never fought his battles alone. Frank was certain that if he waited long enough, Mikey would be pounding on his hotel door trying to drive the threat home and make sure it made a mark.

Frank got up from the bed and started pacing the room, thinking hard about what to do. The obvious thing was to stop hurting his boyfriend—but that was easier said than done. It was a compulsion—a habit… A really, really bad habit. 

It wasn’t his fault. When Gerard told him no it just pissed him off. The rage festered and it _hurt._ The only way to get rid of it was to lash out. It wasn’t personal…it was just a thing. It was a bad thing that happened sometimes.

If Gerard would just say yes more often, it would stop happening. 

And Frank knew that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t just _abuse_ his lover and expect everything to go along fine. Gerard was terrified and he had a right to be. It made Frank sad that he’d managed to reduce someone as gorgeous and free spirited as Gerard into a shaking mess, but the fact made him proud as well.

When the thought struck him, Frank started to gag. 

What kind of a monster was he? 

He’d had two men who loved him more than life and he abused both of them until they stopped knowing how to smile. Even though Mikey was obviously content with Ray, he still didn’t smile unless Ray practically coerced him. And all of Gerard’s smiles had become fake…

How long would it be before he’d stop being able to fake it as well? Gerard was going to break and it was all Frank’s fault…

And he needed to stop being proud of it!

Frank punched the nightstand and heard a crack, not sure if it was the bone of his hand or the wood of the table. He cried out and sank onto the floor next to the bed, shaking his hand and cursing himself as he took in the redness that rapidly spread across his skin.

If he broke his hand he wasn’t going to be any good to the band—but he wasn’t going to be worth much soon anyway…

Frank didn’t like to think about it, but Gerard was giving him no choice. Obviously, his lack of control over the situation pissed him off, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t act on his rage because then he’d destroy everything. 

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t he just show his love like Gerard did or the way Mikey always had? The aggression wasn’t his love, but Gerard’s ability to cope with it was proof of his partner’s devotion to him. 

That was what Frank thirsted for: Unconditional proof that Gerard would love him no matter what. 

Mikey had handled it all better, but Frank hardly ever loved him. There were a few days that he’d had himself convinced, but the truth was that he actually detested him for getting in his way of his desire to be with Gerard.

Frank sighed heavily and moved to sit on the bed instead of the floor. He was going to have to wait for Gerard to come back from wherever he’d run away to, and then he’d have to plead for Gerard’s forgiveness and make sure his boyfriend believed him.

But it was hard to look sorry when he wasn’t…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems a little random. It's been a LONG time since I've worked on this story so it's difficult to get back into the groove of things! I hope you enjoyed! More will be up...eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

When Gerard got back to his hotel room he was shaking. He’d literally sat outside of Mikey’s door without knocking or letting him know he was there. He didn’t want to see anyone, he just wanted to escape.

But the longer he waited, the more the fear ate away at him. There was no chance Frank was going to magically change in an hour or two. He was going to go in the room and be raped unbelievably painfully and there was nothing he could do.

Because Frank didn’t love him. 

No one did now… He was just a washed up whore who stole his brother’s boyfriend.

When he opened the door, he found Frank sitting on the bed. His hand was completely swollen and Gerard was fearful that he was going to be struck to make up for it.

“What happened to your hand?” Gerard asked anxiously, his voice shaking. He was thankful that his sunglasses hid his face and most of his terror. 

“Huh?” Frank asked, looking up from the bedspread. 

“Your hand,” Gerard said more firmly. Even if he was scared, he was still mad. 

“I punched the table…” Frank said, shrugging. “Gerard…I wanna talk to you.”

“Let me get ice,” Gerard said stepping back out of the room. “You probably broke your damned hand.”

With a heavy sigh, Gerard wandered down to the hotel’s front desk and asked for ice. The hotel was mediocre at best and all he got was a small Styrofoam cup of ice, but it was enough to help with the swelling.

When he got back to the room, Frank looked a little more apologetic.

“What did you want to talk about?” Gerard asked, making himself sound apathetic when he was really caught between angry, terrified, and sad. 

“Last night,” Frank mumbled. “When I hurt you. Saying I was drunk isn’t an excuse because I do the same shit sober.”

“I know,” Gerard said, grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom and filling it with the ice from the cup. He sat down on the bed beside Frank and reached for his hand. Frank offered it carefully, and winced when Gerard made a point to squeeze it hard—showing him what it felt like to be hurt when he was expecting comfort. 

“I have control issues,” Frank mumbled as Gerard pressed the ice against side of his hand. 

“No shit,” Gerard growled. 

“I hurt you because…it proves you love me when you don’t leave.”

“I don’t leave because I’m _scared_ of you,” Gerard said. He took off his sunglasses in order to look Frank in the eye. He made his gaze firm and used the skill he’d mastered at a young age—lying. “I don’t love you, Frank. I haven’t for a long time.”

Frank’s expression broke. All of that fake sympathy and sorrow was gone. He looked fearful and devastated—completely out of control.

“Wh-what?” He asked, pulling his hand away from Gerard’s and away from the ice.

“I don’t love you,” Gerard said. “You beat me, you rape me, and I don’t love you anymore.”

“Gerard…”

“You did it to yourself,” Gerard mumbled. “Give me your fucking hand. I’m icing it.” Gerard grabbed Frank’s hand despite his efforts to keep it from him and pressed the ice against it again.

“You’re leaving me, but you’re going to ice my hand?” Frank growled. He didn’t stay sad for long. His sorrow was something he hid. He was a fucking sadist, Gerard realized, and there was probably no fixing him.

Too bad it was a lie that he didn’t love him still. Gerard really wished he didn’t.

“Frank, I want to give you another chance to make me remember why I started dating you in the first place. But I know you’re just going to attack me, so why would I?” Gerard asked.

“Because I love you!” Frank argued, letting real desperation show through. “I _hated_ being with Mikey because I wanted him to be you! I said _your name_ when I was in bed with him—I’m crazy for you. You can’t just leave.”

“I _can,_ ” Gerard snapped. “Because I’m not a toy and I’m not your pet.”

“Gerard…”

“Frank, I’m serious. You _hurt_ me and I can see it in your fucking face that that makes you glad. You like it, but I don’t. And no one else does. So either get your shit together, or fucking die alone. I don’t care. I’ll find someone. You won’t.”

Frank was quiet and Gerard watched all the different emotions swirl in his eyes. He was trying to get angry, but he couldn’t quite manage it. His little world was about to be disrupted and he didn’t know how to handle it. 

“What can I do?” Frank asked.

“Act like we’ve just started dating,” Gerard said. “Which means I’m free to walk away at any minute because we’re not really _together_ anymore. Right? We’re just hanging out.”

For the first time, Frank looked honestly frightened because he _knew_ he’d never be able to win over someone who wasn’t already absolutely crazy for him. Gerard knew how to lie, and he was hopeful—so very, very hopeful—that he could be brave enough to…recondition his boyfriend into a somewhat normal lover. 

“Gerard?”

“What?” Gerard asked, turning Frank’s hand over to ice his palm.

“I…I went to Catholic school, you know?”

“Yeah, I know that and…all of our fans know that. And Bob knows that. That’s not news to me,” Gerard said, paying more attention to the tone instead of the words. When he wanted to, he could be a lie detector—even if he had a bleeding heart. 

He would know if Frank tried to feed him a bullshit priest-rape story, or if he actually had a real one.

“Nothing…nothing _bad_ ever really happened, but… You know, you mess up—say something wrong or come late to class because you had to go to the bathroom and took too long—they send you to the front of the room and beat your hands with a fuckin’ ruler. Or if you mess up really bad like cheat on a test because you feel fuckin’ inadequate to Andrew Cortez, and you get sent to the Headmaster and he whips you while kids in the office and the secretary get to hear you cry out.” Frank’s hands, even the wounded one, kept clenching and he kept biting into his lip. The sort of forced-apathy in his tone told Gerard that this was true. “So part of my schooling was to be humiliated for fucking up. To get fucking hurt every day because you’ve got a small bladder and have to piss after lunch. And they don’t listen to that, you know? They say ‘there’s more than enough time to get back to the room.’ But there’s not. It’s two minutes. I can barely get my zipper down in two minutes, Christ…”

Frank fell silent and groaned as Gerard made him flatten his hand so he could ice his knuckles. 

“You beat me up because you got hit by the Headmaster?”

“It’s not just that,” Frank mumbled. “I don’t talk about it because people always fuckin’ tell me I misunderstood or overreacted…” Of course, here was the fake rape story Gerard was conditioned not to believe. Gerard wished he still had his sunglasses on because he wanted to roll his eyes. “They act like beating a kid in front of a bunch of people is supposed to somehow help them and not traumatize them. I started…thinking about hitting the teachers. I wanted to fuckin’ beat the Headmaster. I got really mad. The kids wouldn’t laugh at you when it happened, but they all saw the bruises on your hands and they all saw you leave the office crying. And then your mom gets the note saying you’re a fucking cheater and you get yelled at by her and all you ever wanted was to be as good as…fucking Andrew Cortez.”

Gerard looked up from Frank’s swollen hand and offered him a sympathetic frown. He understood that public humiliation could definitely ruin a kid’s life. He’d been fucking Peter Pan once, God did he know about being humiliated. To have that happen every day? All the time? Over a course of an entire schooling period? 

Frank was bitter. He’d pretty much been abused, but legally, so he was angry with the world for not understanding him. It wasn’t just a onetime thing. It wasn’t a year, or two. It was twelve years of harsh, strict Catholic education that didn’t fit with a rebel kid like Frank. 

Gerard tried to put himself in that mindset, because it wasn’t easy. The pain was one thing. A reprimand for messing up. Being smacked as a kid for doing something wrong didn’t turn _Gerard_ into a sadistic control freak… But then again he was only hit when he did something _bad, bad_ or really dangerous. To get hit every day? And for things he sometimes couldn’t even control?

To have _no one_ understand why he couldn’t put a ruler strike to the knuckles behind him when it obviously meant more to him than that…it was an unending torture. To be humiliated and to have no say in it. To be hurt and crying with only more punishment to come…

Every time Gerard told him no to sex it embarrassed him for asking. Embarrassment was the trigger. It wasn’t just an “oops I tried to put the potato chips in the fridge instead of the cupboard” kind of embarrassment, it was mortification. He was turned down. He’d misread cues or really didn’t understand that he’d caused too much pain the last time. 

Every time Frank was embarrassed, he felt out of control. It all led to rage. 

“You’re probably a lot cuter than Andy Whoever,” Gerard mumbled.

“Probably. He went to Bible College.”

“And you’re in a really cool rock band,” Gerard said, trying to direct his affection into Frank hurt hand instead of doing what he wanted and kissing him. If he kissed Frank now, he would just make it all go away. 

He had to keep face and stay brave. Tough love got Frank to crack a little. He showed his vulnerability, finally. 

“It’s not a lie when I say I love you,” Frank said, looking down at the bedspread. 

“I know,” Gerard said. He looked at Frank until he met his gaze and tried to tell him he loved him with his eyes. He wanted Frank to know, but he didn’t want him to think he’d won that easily. Admitting it wasn’t the hard part—fixing it was.

( ) ( ) ( )

It wasn’t easy being Mikey’s punching bag, but Ray was able to cope so long as he got Mikey’s affection as an apology. It wasn’t like Gerard and Frank, at least. Mikey didn’t _actually_ hit unless he was playing around. Mikey just yelled.

He yelled _a lot._

But he was always sorry afterwards and, Hell—Ray usually got laid in the end so he wasn’t going to complain. Everybody dealt with stress in their own way and Mikey’s just happened to be yelling.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey said, flopping down on the bed beside Ray. “I’m just…Frank pisses me off. He hurt my brother. I just wanna ring his fuckin’ tattooed to shit neck.”

Ray laughed softly and reached over to rub Mikey’s shoulder. Immediately, Mikey responded and rolled over and closed all of the space between their bodies, curling into his side.

“Where were you today?” Mikey asked before sighing heavily.

“When? When I went to get coffee?” Ray asked. 

“Yeah… You were gone a long time.”

“If I told you it would spoil the surprise,” Ray said. Mikey shot up in bed and swung a leg over Ray’s hips to sit on his lap, straddling him.

“What did you get me?” Mikey asked. 

“I can’t tell you ‘til we’re on the bus,” Ray said, shrugging and pretending he wasn’t interested in the subject.

“No!” Mikey called, laughing playfully and bouncing up and down. One of the things Ray found himself kind of selfishly in love with about Mikey was the way he kept his smiles private. He didn’t smile on stage—hardly. He didn’t smile around Frank and definitely not Gerard. It was mostly when it was just the two of them. And, honestly, Ray was obsessed with how childlike Mikey’s delight could be. He was shameless—ready to just act like a kid on Christmas wondering what joyous wonders were under the Christmas tree. 

“Can’t tell you, sorry,” Ray said, shrugging.

“No!” Mikey repeated. “You can’t do that to me—you know you want to tell me.” Mikey leaned down and kissed Ray softly. “You know you wanna tell me,” he repeated, using his soft, purring bedroom voice.

Ray lifted a hand to rub Mikey’s hip and placed his other palm against Mikey’s cheek, stroking it softly. Mikey started kissing him more deeply, moaning a little bit—almost inaudibly—and pressed his hips down against Ray’s.

“We don’t have any condoms,” Ray mumbled when Mikey started kissing his neck.

“I don’t care,” Mikey answered, sitting back up and taking off his shirt. “Just pull out. I promise I’m on the pill—we won’t have a baby.” Mikey started laughing at his own joke and Ray rolled his eyes before grabbing Mikey’s hips and rolling over so Mikey’s back was pressed against the mattress instead.

“Are you sure?” Ray asked softly.

“Yeah,” Mikey said, shaking his head against the pillow. “Come on. Let’s just—let’s just do it.”

“Well aren’t you romantic,” Ray said with a laugh. Mikey rolled his eyes and started pulling Ray’s shirt up until Ray took it off. Ray made quick work of Mikey’s jeans and boxers, and then Mikey no less than attacked him to get him out of his own pants.

As soon as Ray went to grab the lube from the nightstand, Mikey grabbed his hand and stopped him.

“Something wrong?” He asked. 

“Do you think I’m attractive?” Mikey asked, looking up at Ray attentively. Ray smiled and reached down to pull off Mikey’s glasses.

“Mikey, you’re perfect.”

“I didn’t ask if I was perfect, I asked if you think I’m attractive.”

“Yes,” Ray said, leaning down and kissing his cheek. “I find you very attractive, and I think you’re really handsome.”

“Better looking than Gerard?” Mikey asked, his eyes becoming a little cynical. 

“I think so,” Ray said, nodding. Mikey did not look satisfied. “Gerard is… _pretty._ Half of the time he could pass as a woman. You, on the other hand, look like a guy—you have cute hair, and y—”

Ray tried to say more, but Mikey grabbed his head and was forcing his tongue into his mouth. He wrapped his legs around Ray’s hips and started grinding up against him. Ray broke the kiss in order to kiss and suck on Mikey’s neck, getting him to start panting and mewling quietly. 

Ray sat up to get the lube and poured some over his fingers. With Mikey staring at him, Ray wasted no time pushing one of Mikey’s legs to the side so he could work two fingers inside of him at once.

Mikey let out a choked cry and clenched around his fingers. Ray held still for a moment, trying to get Mikey’s body to relax so the pain wouldn’t distract him. With a few careful breaths, Mikey’s muscles loosened and Ray was able to begin thrusting his fingers and curling them to rub against Mikey’s sweet spot. Once he hit it, Mikey let out a strangled sound—whatever noise of pleasure it could’ve been locked in his throat.

Ray only hit the spot a couple of times before he began scissoring his fingers and then adding a third. Mikey groaned softly and started clutching at the blankets. 

“Is it okay?” Ray asked softly. Mikey growled and nodded his head even though his eyes were clenched shut from the pain. It took about two minutes for Mikey to finally relax enough for Ray to begin thrusting his fingers in and out with ease. 

“I’m—I’m ready, it’s okay,” Mikey said, spreading his legs and squeezing the blankets in his fists. Ray took out his fingers and grabbed for the lube again, making sure to thoroughly coat his member before lining up and pressing the tip inside. 

Mikey hissed and started grabbing for Ray’s hands. 

“Sorry,” Ray said, thinking Mikey was in pain. He went to pull out, but once the hand that was balancing him was lifted from the mattress, Mikey grabbed it and laced their fingers together.

“Need to…just, want to hold your hand,” Mikey mumbled, opening his eyes slightly and looking up at Ray with affection. 

“Okay,” Ray said, pressing in a little further and squeezing Mikey’s hand in return. 

Mikey used his other hand to pull Ray down for a kiss, and lapped at Ray’s lips as Ray pushed all of the way inside. 

Ray paused when he was completely inside, almost ready to come from the heat and the pressure alone. Mikey remained tense, but didn’t seem to be in any serious pain. Ray made sure to be gentle when he pulled back out to the tip. 

Mikey exhaled sharply and turned his face away as Ray began to set up a pace. As Mikey’s body finally began to relax, his insides becoming slick with the lubricant, the pleasure seemed to peek through the pain.

All at once, it seemed, Mikey went from frighteningly silent to gasping and holding back little moans. Whenever a cry would threaten to escape, he’d pull Ray into another kiss and start pawing at his back—not scratching, just gripping and holding. 

Ray lifted Mikey’s hips with his free hand, pinning down Mikey’s hand to keep his balance, and gripped his thigh tightly. With the different angle, he struck Mikey’s prostate almost instantly and a choked cry escaped Mikey’s lips.

Mikey started rutting against Ray’s stomach, rolling his hips in a desperate attempt to create friction while the hand still gripping Ray’s began to tremble. He started biting into his lip and a shrill noise was coming from his throat as he tried to bite back any noise that might come from his pleasure. 

Ray leaned down to suck on his neck and was rewarded when Mikey’s composure finally broke and he started moaning softly. It only stayed quiet for a few more thrusts before Mikey was practically having spasms beneath Ray on the bed.

Mikey started pushing Ray back until he was practically sitting up in Ray’s arms, putting all of the strain on Ray who had to hold him up and try to balance them so they wouldn’t fall off the bed.

Ray held Mikey against his chest, letting his lover bounce up and down on his lap. Mikey started clawing at Ray’s hair while keeping him trapped in deep, sloppy kisses. Ray was able to snake a hand between their bodies and began pumping Mikey’s erection gently. At first he was just trying to tease, making Mikey break their kiss to cry out and finally release a deep throated moan of desperation. 

Ray set up a pace so that every time he’d brush against Mikey’s sweet spot, he’d run his thumb over the tip of his cock—teasing, almost torturing. 

Mikey pressed his forehead into Ray’s shoulder and started moaning loudly, sounding needy and desperate. He would only let himself moan for a few moments before he’d pull Ray into another kiss and press down with his hip in an attempt to get Ray to go deeper.

Ray pawed at Mikey’s thigh, squeezing and cupping the curve of his ass while trying to keep them upright. Mikey’s legs were wrapped around his waist and kept constricting and squirming 

Mikey started chanting out curses and Ray felt his muscles go tense again, and from the look of pure bliss crossing Mikey’s flushed face, it wasn’t from pain. 

Ray began pumping Mikey’s cock quickly, listening to the sharp cries of unabashed pleasure. Mikey started tugging at Ray’s head, guiding him back down toward the mattress.

Ray let himself fall forward over Mikey’s body, careful not to crush him but the bed spring cried out in protest at the same time as Mikey shrieked in pleasure. He kept his legs wrapped around Ray’s waist and pressed him in deeper with every thrust, sometimes holding him still to keep the pressure on his prostate. 

Mikey was screaming like someone in a porn film by the time he finally came, and afterwards he lie on the mattress shaking from the force of his orgasm and completely incapable of catching his breath. His throat kept sticking and his breaths would hitch before coming out as another little moan. 

He barely had enough energy to whisper to Ray that he loved him before he fell into a sleep. Even unconscious, his muscles kept twitching and Ray smiled down at him as he cleaned up the sheets. Mikey groaned softly when Ray wiped him down with a damp cloth, not wanting him to go to wake up dirty, but stayed asleep.

Ray kissed him on the corner of the mouth and shut off the lights before crawling back into bed. He draped an arm over Mikey’s chest and held him close. For him, everything was perfect.


	10. Chapter 10

Mikey woke up with a sore neck and an extremely sore ass. He turned his head to look at Ray who was still sound asleep, snoring a little with his face buried halfway in the pillow. Mikey blinked a few times before smiling at him, deciding with some effort that he was happy with the night before. It wasn’t a mistake. He had no reason to be embarrassed, right?

He didn’t like to think about how much noise he’d made, even though his throat was raw from trying to repress his moans as much as he could. Ray didn’t seem to respond negatively to the sounds… Like Frank, Ray probably loved them.

Mikey sighed and rolled over, only realizing once he’d moved that Ray had an arm draped over his chest. His lover snorted himself awake and the unflattering noise made Mikey start laughing. Almost instantly, he caught himself and lowered his head. Instinct told him that Ray wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at any more than Frank ever did, but Ray just moaned sleepily. 

“What time is it?” Ray asked, his voice groggy. He closed his eyes and laid back down against the pillow. 

“It’s early. Go back to sleep,” Mikey said, getting up from the bed and stumbling toward the hotel bathroom when the pain shot through him. It reminded him of being with Frank—but it wasn’t as bad. He just had to remind himself that it wasn’t that bad…

“Are you going to take a shower?” Ray asked, slowly sitting up. 

“Yeah,” Mikey said, trying to move a little faster so he could lock himself in the tiny bathroom before Ray could ask to join him. 

“Can you wait a minute? I need to take a piss.” Ray started getting up and Mikey sighed, trying not to show how much worse his mood was compared to last night.

“Fine,” Mikey said, turning his face away.

“Are you okay?” Ray asked, coming over to Mikey and stroking his cheek. Mikey pulled away and shook his head.

“I’m fine…”

“Did I hurt you? I can tell something’s wrong.”

“Ray, I’m fine—I want to take a shower.”

“Okay,” Ray said, backing off and going quickly to the bathroom door. “I won’t take long.”

Mikey sighed heavily and rubbed at his face as soon as Ray closed the door. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just act normal. Why couldn’t he just wake up and feel happy about it? Ray was still there, right next to him in bed. Ray was being nice and trying to be kind—why did Mikey feel the overwhelming _need_ to push him away. 

Ray wasn’t going to get mad about anything… Ray was the _nice_ partner. Ray wasn’t like Frank…

Mikey tried to regain his composure when he heard Ray start washing his hands and rubbed harder at his eyes. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just act _normal._

When Ray came out of the bathroom, Mikey made sure to give him a hug—just because that seemed like an appropriate, morning-after behavior—and stole a quick kiss before ducking into the bathroom and locking the door. 

Once the door was closed, Mikey stared at it and found himself mouthing the words “I love you.” He didn’t know why he couldn’t just say them… He was sure he’d said them to Ray before. For some reason, it just felt wrong. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard flinched as he awoke, terrified when he felt a hand running through his hair and down his cheek. He stared up at Frank, eyes wide. He tried stammering something, afraid now that Frank had caught him off guard. He may have broken through some of Frank’s walls the night before, but now he was terrified that Frank was going to build them back up with fists.

“Hey,” Frank said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Gerard asked, mentally scanning himself for any pain he might have missed as he came awake. 

“I scared you—I’m sorry,” Frank said, scooting away to the edge of the bed.

Gerard slowly sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was going on ten a.m. and they had to leave before noon. Frank looked to be showered and redressed. The swelling in his hand had gone down, but it was still red. 

“I-I…I’ve gotta get a shower before we leave. Last chance for a while, right?” Gerard said. Last night he’d been able to stay angry at Frank, but now—with the prospect of staying on a cramped bus with him for weeks on end—he was terrified of what tricks Frank was capable of. He could dump Frank on the bus, but he couldn’t run from him. There’d be nowhere to hide. 

“Right,” Frank said. His expression was gentle, but Gerard couldn’t trust it. Of course Frank was going to be nice now. He was still afraid that Gerard had been serious when he’d told him he didn’t love him. If only he knew…

Gerard would love him forever. He still loved Frank after learning that he’d raped Mikey. If Frank was a monster, what did that make Gerard? What sort of person loved a monster?

“Gerard?” Frank said, just as Gerard neared the bathroom door.

“What?” Gerard asked, managing to keep from stammering despite the fear Frank could no doubt see on his face.

“I meant what I said last night,” Frank said. “And I’m sorry that I treat you this way.”

“ _Treat_ me this way?” Gerard asked.

“Treated,” Frank whispered. “I’m sorry. I promise that I’m gonna stop. I’m gonna work on it.”

Gerard shook his head and closed himself off in the bathroom. He half expected Frank to try to break down the door and it almost scared him when Frank was quiet in the other room. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank packed up Gerard’s things for him, even risking going into the bathroom while Gerard showered to take his dirty clothes and replace them with fresh ones. He could hear Gerard gasp when he opened the door, but the fear just filled Frank with dread rather than pleasure like it used to. Now Frank was just afraid that Gerard was going to leave. 

He had cause to believe that Gerard was just lying about dumping him and leaving him behind, but he didn’t want to risk it. Gerard was his everything. He’d once dated Mikey believing he was as close to Gerard as he could ever get. Now he had Gerard and was on the verge of losing him. 

That couldn’t happen. That just couldn’t happen. 

Frank knew he’d never be able to let go of his sadistic side, but he hoped he’d be able to at least put most of it behind him. There was always a chance that he could get Gerard to consent to at least _some_ games, but he’d never get that opportunity by scaring Gerard into it.

When the shower finally turned off, Frank sat silently on the bed, his hands clasped and held against his mouth with his elbows on his knees. He was afraid that Gerard would just ignore him for the rest of the day—for the rest of the tour. If there was anything he hated more than being alone, it was being ignored. It messed with his head…

Frank listened to the sounds of Gerard drying off and getting dressed, and closed his eyes when the door to the bathroom opened. The warm, moist smell of the shower steam wafted into the room. It was better at home. Here, all of the products provided by the hotel just smelled like chemicals and soap. At home, Gerard smelled like fruits and plants… 

“Thanks for…packing up for me,” Gerard said. Frank looked up and Gerard was toweling his hair dry. He looked cute, even when his face was void of makeup— _especially_ when his face was void of makeup. 

Frank almost commented on it, but he caught himself. Complimenting Gerard on his looks would probably just piss him off. 

“It’s the least I could do,” Frank mumbled. “Packing for you…it’s, yeah…”

Gerard looked as if he wanted to say something, but shrugged instead. He didn’t say anything when he tossed the fluffy, white hotel towel onto the floor. He just ran his fingers through his damp hair and sat down on the bed on the opposite side of Frank. 

“Gerard, I love you.”

“Why?” Gerard said immediately. 

Frank lowered his gaze to the floor and sighed. 

Because Gerard was perfect. Gerard was attractive, he was so talented, he was nice, generous…what wasn’t there to love about Gerard?

“Why do you love me?” Gerard pressed. “Because I put up with you?”

“Because you’re what I want,” Frank said before shaking his head. “You’re…you’re what I want to be.”

Gerard was quiet for a moment and then he stood up from the bed. Frank barely had the time to turn to look at him before Gerard had the door open and was preparing to leave. 

“What the fuck kind of an answer is that!?” Gerard snapped. He didn’t give Frank the chance to answer. He stepped into the hallway and slammed the door behind him.

Frank thought to give chase, but thought it would probably be best if he let Gerard go—at least for a little while. He’d given Gerard the greatest compliment he could. It would just take some time for Gerard to realize that…

( ) ( ) ( )

Ray didn’t know what to think about the way Mikey acted when he’d woken up. He seemed to regret the night they spent together, but at the same time he didn’t see angry. If anything, he looked hurt and Ray was terrified that he’d done something wrong—missed a cue—and caused Mikey serious harm.

While Mikey showered, Ray dressed himself and checked the sheets for blood. There was a little bit, but only a tiny, tiny drop. 

When the shower stopped, Ray felt his pulse quicken. He was so afraid that Mikey was going to come out and be upset. He could handle the yelling, but not the sadness. When Mikey got depressed it was heavy and pressing. 

Ray knew all too well that Mikey’s dark feelings could lead him to walk out on the band and hide for weeks. He didn’t want to let that happen again, and Ray couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of that much anxiety. 

“Ray?” Mikey called from the bathroom. 

Ray immediately got to his feet and went to the door.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Can you bring me my glasses?” Mikey asked. 

Ray sighed in relief and went to get the glasses off of the nightstand. He knocked on the bathroom door before entering and found Mikey working on his hair. 

“Thanks,” Mikey said, taking the glasses and putting them on. He returned to straightening his hair, but Ray caught Mikey watching him through the mirror. “Sorry I was…weird this morning. I’m not used to waking up with people.”

Ray didn’t mention that they’d slept next to each other a lot before. It was the first time they’d had full-on sex, though, and Ray knew that was what Mikey was upset about. Ray just didn’t know if was feelings of inadequacy, fear, or remorse that were making his boyfriend so upset.

“Mikey…”

“I know,” Mikey said, sighing as he worked some product through his hair in order to make his little faux-hawk. “Don’t…don’t worry about it. I’m a weird person.”

“You’re not weird, Mikey. You’re upset.”

“For no reason. It’s fine.”

“You can talk to me. You know I’ll listen to you. I don’t want you to be upset and think you can’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m just…thinking. I think too much,” Mikey said. Finished with his hair, Mikey left the bathroom, holding up the towel around his waist with one hand. Ray didn’t look as Mikey got dressed, but didn’t take too long after heard Mikey’s pants zip to approach him again. 

“Did I do something?” Ray asked. He did his best to keep his voice sounding genuine. The last thing he wanted was to have Mikey snap at him.

“No, Ray… I’m—I’m _trying_ okay? I’m…I’m trying to be normal. Sorry, I’m not normal.”

“You’re fine,” Ray said gently. “You are normal. Why…why do you think you’re not?”

“Because…”

“Because you’re not happy?” Ray asked. He could imagine that living with Frank had caused more damage than Mikey was willing to show. With Frank, he was hurt and forced to look happy about it the next morning or face more pain. Now, Mikey wasn’t hurt the way he was used to and he didn’t know how to react. 

“I’m…I’m _happy,_ ” Mikey said, almost as if asking himself a question. “I’m not mad, or…sad. I’m just…”

“Mikey, you know you don’t have to act…different than you want to around me. If you’re tired and groggy, then act tired and groggy. You don’t have to fake anything. There’s no pressure. I’m tired.”

“I’m really tired,” Mikey mumbled, straightening the hem of his shirt. 

“Are you okay with last night?” Ray asked, taking a deep breath. He was afraid Mikey was going to start yelling again, because when Mikey felt cornered he got mad, but Mikey just shook his head.

“I was afraid you were going to ask that,” Mikey said with a sigh. “Yeah. I’m _fine._ I wanted it, too. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” Ray said, trying to sound friendly and playful. “It’s my job to worry about you.”

Mikey rolled his eyes and started packing up his clothes. 

“I really am fine, Ray,” Mikey said. “I just don’t know…how to act the morning after.”

Ray was quiet because he understood what Mikey meant. No matter what he told him—I know how you feel, you don’t have to act any different—Mikey would just roll his eyes. It was easy to say not to feel a certain way, but controlling subconscious emotions was impossible. Mikey would eventually feel more natural about it and he would be happier in the morning. The kisses and the bliss would come natural. All the things Frank had robbed him of would come back eventually…at least Ray hoped. 

He would never hold Mikey’s lack of emotions against him. He knew what caused it, and his typical numbness and composure honestly just made it better when Ray was able to get him to crack. Smiles were valuable—the fact that he’d managed to get Mikey to _moan_ the night before had been priceless. 

“So…what did you get me?” Mikey asked when Ray took too long to respond. “You told me you got me something last night.”

“And I told you that you had to wait until we were on the bus to find out,” Ray said, not forgetting to make his tone playful. Mikey started grinning at him and almost managed to laugh before there was quiet knock on their door.

“It’s too early for Brian to be after us,” Mikey mumbled. He walked over to the door and slowly opened it a crack.

“Who is it?” Ray asked.

“It’s just Gerard,” Mikey said, opening the door the rest of the way and gesturing his brother inside. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Gerard mumbled. He wandered into the room and slowly sat down on the foot of the hotel bed. 

“If it was nothing you wouldn’t be in our room,” Mikey said. Ray caught him rolling his eyes, but Gerard didn’t seem to notice. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said, sighing. “Frank… He said something weird.”

“When is anything he says normal?” Mikey asked. 

“What did he say?” Ray asked, trying to be a little more helpful without stepping on any toes. 

“He said…I was what he wanted to be,” Gerard said, looking down at his hands and clasping them together. “I didn’t know what that meant so I just left.”

“That is weird,” Mikey mumbled, sounding completely disinterested. Ray knew that in Mikey’s mind, if Gerard wasn’t injured he didn’t need to be complaining. “What did you say to him?”

“I asked him…” Gerard sighed heavily and stood up from the bed. He started pacing in front of the covered window and then pushed the curtain aside so he could look out at the city. “I mean, he _said it_ when I asked him why he loved me. He said he loved me because I’m what he wants to be. And I asked him what the fuck it was supposed to mean and I left.”

“That’s a douchey answer,” Mikey said, snorting as he returned to packing his clothes. 

“I don’t know what to say to him,” Gerard muttered. “That’s just…a weird thing to say.”

“It means ‘I don’t love you, Gerard,’” Mikey muttered, zipping his suitcase and glaring at the bedspread. “He feeds on you—I told you that before.”

Gerard leaned against the glass of the window, silent. Ray didn’t know what to say to either of the brother, and couldn’t desire if it would be better if he just disappeared and gave them space.

“Ray, you need a shower,” Mikey said suddenly. “It’s the last chance you’ll have for a while.”

Ray nodded and stammered a few times before walking toward the bathroom, not missing the look of annoyance on Mikey’s face as he shut the bathroom door. As soon as Ray had the shower turned on, he heard Mikey start yelling. It wasn’t exactly _rare_ that Mikey would yell, but it wasn’t common for him to yell at the person he was actually mad at. 

Ray had become his emotional whipping boy, but it was okay because he knew Mikey was never mad at him—it was always Frank or Gerard or one of their sound guys. Mikey wasn’t very confrontational, which was the cause of a lot of his heartache, but if something got under his skin enough he would lash out.

Trying to block their voices out, Ray stepped under the stream of water and started humming. Gerard and Mikey went at for over forty minutes before Ray gave up and turned the water off. Someone had to stop them before they killed each other—and with Mikey’s level of tension, Gerard was probably going to be the one going down.

( ) ( ) ( )

“You can’t keep doing this,” Mikey snapped as soon as the shower turned on. “Gerard, you’re my brother—I love you. I _have_ to. And I’m more than willing to help you when you’re hurt or upset, but this is bullshit!”

“What are—”

“No!” Mikey yelled. “I know you’re my brother, but _Frank_ is my _ex!_ I don’t want to hear about everything he says to you! He _loves_ you because he wants to _be_ you? What do I care!?”

“Mikey—”

“Just be happy that he fucking loves you at all, Gerard! Because he _never_ loved me! Not for _any_ reason!” 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t have anyone else to go to,” Gerard said, trying to show he was genuinely at a loss for friends. Mikey didn’t want to hear it, though. He’d put enough effort into helping Gerard deal with the _abuse._ He didn’t want to hear Gerard be picky about which direction Frank’s love came from.

Even if he had Ray—even if Mikey was pretty sure he was in love with Ray—Mikey still loved Frank and it still hurt that Frank had only lied about loving him, that none of it had ever been real. Gerard was lucky. Frank gave a reason for loving him. Who cared if it was strange and twisted? It was a reason.

It was something…

“You don’t need to bring your drama to me,” Mikey said. “You know I’ve got enough of my own. I went through all of the same things you are right now, and I did it _alone._ ”

“No one said you had to! You could’ve come to me! Mikey, I—”

“You were in love with him! I knew that, Gerard! I couldn’t go to you—and if Frank ever found out I was talking about it, it would’ve just gotten worse. I didn’t get free passes like you do. You’re lucky he hasn’t broken any of your bones yet!”

“He’s not like that,” Gerard said, his eyes starting to take on a defensive glean. Mikey rolled his eyes and slammed his suitcase down on the floor. 

“Yes he is!”

“Frank isn’t like that at all—he’s not…”

“You can’t defend him,” Mikey said, shaking his head. “He’s mean—he’s mean on purpose. He’s a fucking sadist.”

“You…you _chose_ to stay with him!”

“I _loved him!_ Gerard, it’s not _fair_ to me—don’t you understand that?”

“Mikey, I never did any of this to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I _want_ to believe that,” Mikey said.

“I never did anything with Frank when you two were together—I never even made a pass at him when you were dating. I had nothing to do with what happened…”

Mikey sighed and sat down on the bed. Gerard had _everything_ to do with what happened. Gerard was the cause of it. _Everybody_ preferred Gerard. He was the attractive one, the talented one, the creative one… Gerard was so fucking perfect that Frank loved him because he wanted so badly just to be like him.

There probably wasn’t a person alive who wanted to be like Gerard’s dorky younger brother… What was he known for? Nothing. Nothing other than being Gerard’s dorky younger brother.

“I’m _sorry_ I bothered you about Frank,” Gerard whispered. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“That’s your own fault,” Mikey said. “You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t have started dating him.”

Mikey felt that it was more than just common courtesy not to shack up with a friend’s ex—especially a _sibling’s_ ex. If Gerard had honored that and kept his hands off of Frank, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt—he wouldn’t be having any of these problems…

“I love him, Mikey—”

“I don’t care!” Mikey shouted, getting up from the bed. He got dangerously close to his brother, glaring down at him and ready to _punch him_ back into his place. “You can’t do this to me anymore. I can…I can listen when you talk about getting hurt, because I was hurt by him too, but I don’t want to hear about you not liking the reason he loves you.”

Gerard was quiet, but his face kept flickering between anger and pity. Mikey hated all of it. He didn’t want Gerard’s pity. Gerard was the pitiful one. He was trapped in the shitty relationship with Frank who wanted nothing more than to trick and torture him. 

“I won’t…I won’t bother you about it anymore,” Gerard said, sighing heavily. “I’ll go. I’m just gonna go.”

“Yeah, go back to Frank and see how long it takes for him to bust your face for walking out,” Mikey mumbled.

“Frank doesn’t _hit,_ ” Gerard said firmly.

“Right,” Mikey snapped. “I forgot—he’ll fuck you until you’re sorry. Sound better?”

“Fuck you,” Gerard hissed. He looked like he was feeling attacked, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. 

Mikey didn’t really remember what he said next, but Gerard started screaming at him. He was angry at Mikey for being angry at him. He was still mad at Mikey for walking out on the band without saying anything before the tour—even when Mikey tried to voice that he’d been heartbroken and confused. He was upset that Mikey stayed angry at Frank when he’d moved on to be with Ray—who, Gerard kept reminding him, was nice and sweet and funny and cool. 

He talked Ray up, but then talked Frank up to sound like some sort of tortured soul turned saint. Frank was fucking evil it made Mikey’s blood boil to hear someone as gentle as Ray being compared to him. 

Just before the fight turned physical—Mikey literally prepared to throw a punch just to shut his brother up—the shower turned off in the bathroom and Gerard finally shut his mouth.

“You should leave,” Mikey said. “I want you out of my face.”

“Fine,” Gerard said, shaking his head and starting for the door. Just before he left, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Mikey…”

“What?” Mikey snapped. He turned away to look at the bathroom door, waiting for Ray to come back so he could have someone fighting in his corner. 

“If it… If it ever comes down to it, you know I’ll always pick you over Frank,” Gerard mumbled.

Mikey scoffed at him and rolled it eyes. That was always Gerard’s trick. When he couldn’t win the fight, he’d always make some little comment to make him look like the better person. Mikey wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time.

“You already chose Frank,” Mikey snapped. Gerard looked at him sadly—pitifully—then opened the door and left.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @Jatty_Sinful!


End file.
